


We'll Make it Through the Night

by mssrj_335



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Accidental Bonding, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate timeline for canon locations, Badass Finn (Star Wars), Badass Poe Dameron, Battle, Dungeons and Dragons Influences, Happy Ending, Hurt/Comfort, Knight Poe Dameron, M/M, Major Character Injury, Missed Opportunities, Mutual Pining, Needs a Score tbh, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Finn (Star Wars), Romance, Self-Doubt, Semi-Original Magic Lore, Shapeshifter Poe Dameron, Spellblade Finn, Supportive Poe Dameron, Trope bait, Tropes, We embrace cliches here ma’am, depictions of violence, supportive Finn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-05-03
Packaged: 2021-03-02 00:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 20,955
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23865997
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mssrj_335/pseuds/mssrj_335
Summary: After a spell gone wrong and Poe's magic is bound, Finn and Poe must visit Kes Dameron for help. There's no guarantee he can set things right but there's no choice left. Finn struggles with his own abilities and as the threat of the First Order presses near, he just hopes they can make it in time.--aka the fantasy au no one but me asked for
Relationships: Finn/Poe Dameron, Poe Dameron/Finn
Comments: 71
Kudos: 76





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> terrible at summaries and tags, self-edited so lmk if there's something awful  
> idk if anyone is down for this but i'm having a blast lolol  
> hope you do too!

It’s a beautiful day for some spell practice, really. The sun is shining, the air is light. It’s too bad the whole mission is going to hell in a handbasket and they’re in prison instead.

“Hey! Keep that line _tight._ ”

“Oh no, _really_? What’s it look like I’m doing?”

Rey looks frantically between the prison bars and Finn’s hands, drawing spell symbols in the earthen floor, digging through her brain for the right words. Finn has to squeeze his eyes shut to hold his focus. Thank all that’s holy the guards didn’t think to break out anti-magic binders.

“This is hard to do with just one person,” he grinds out. “This ain’t exactly my speciality, you know.”

“Just hold it for a minute longer, I need the incantation!”

“I thought you _knew_ the incantation!”

“I do! I know it, I learnt it last week!”

Finn can feel the silvery magic weave waver in his hands. He wasn’t joking, magic isn’t his speciality. At least, not like this. The title Spellblade is very, _very_ recently acquired and he’s barely holding the weave together. Gods, this is so much easier to do with his axes.

But he doesn’t have his axes, does he? At this point, they don’t have anything they came in with, including the spellbook and map they stole from the First Order that landed them in prison in the first place. Which is why they’re trying to break out. With an extremely dangerous transmutation spell Rey just learned.

“Do you remember it or not?” Finn’s starting to feel frantic himself and the weave is crackling in his fingers and the bars.

“Yes!” The look on Rey’s face does not agree.

She starts murmuring an incantation and the magic weave burns pleasantly in Finn’s hands. The cell bars begin to waver, turning the consistency of wet noodles, and Finn’s heart leaps. Oh, this just may work! Finn’s concentrating so hard he doesn’t catch a shadow gliding through the prison window, but he _does_ hear an explosion reverberate down the prison walls. It shakes the bars like a bowl of jelly and he tries to hard not to look away from the weave. They’re almost through, then they can deal with whatever is going on down the hall.

There’s some more crashing, some shouting, and out of the corner of his eye he spies a familiar black falcon hopping toward the cell with a set of keys clenched in its beak.

_Oh no._

The falcon takes two more hops, transforming in a flash of orange fire on the third into an even more familiar face. Poe’s striding to the cell, hand outstretched and keys at the ready.

“Finn! Rey! I—”

Finn’s heart jolts, the weave starts to fray. “No, Poe! Poe, don’t!”

He can’t get it out fast enough. One moment, Poe’s looking at him with confused eyes, present and handsome and whole. The next, the key breaches the lock, and the weave shatters in a burst of light. The explosion shakes the prison walls, Finn’s thrown back, Rey landing awkwardly in a heap on top of him.

There’s a moment of confusion, dust rains down into Finn’s eyes, he gets his breath back—

“Poe!”

Finn might be sick. _Don’t be dead, please please be ok_. Panic grips his heart as he scrambles to the cell bars but he freezes solid when he catches sight of Poe.

The good news is the transmutation worked. The bars part as easily as a beaded curtain, metal transmuted to vine, and they can slip through. The bad news is that there’s now a sleek black cat sitting where Poe was standing, looking up at them with familiar, confused eyes in a pile of what used to be Poe’s clothes. He exchanges a look with Rey, who’s as incredulous as he feels, and he can’t do more than stare down, dumbfounded. Poe’s never transformed into a cat before.

“Guys? Why are you so tall?”

Finn blinks once. Twice. He glances at Rey.

“What the hell happened?”

Before she can answer, another explosion reverberates down the hall, jerking them back into action.

“We need to go!” Rey says, tugging at his arm. “We have to get the spellbook back!”

Finn nods, starts gathering Poe’s clothes and effects to give back when he changes. Poe seems as if he understands even as a cat, and squeezes his eyes shut, looking strangely human for an instant. Also strange that Poe lost his clothes, Finn muses, doesn’t normally happen when he shapeshifts. Usually even his weapons transform with him, altered with his inherent shifter sorcery. He waits for a second, watching the black cat clench so hard he shakes. But there’s no flash of orange, no familiar scent of magic, and Finn feels his stomach drop.

“Guys, what’s goin’ on?” Poe asks again, this time looking more frantic. His ears, at first pointed and alert and ridiculously large, flatten back on the back of his head. “Why can’t I shift back?”

_Oh bad, bad, bad._

“Don’t know,” Finn manages. “Sorry about this, buddy.”

Finn shoves Poe’s clothes into Rey’s arms as she stumbles to her feet, flabbergasted, and scoops Poe up into his arms. “Are you talking to him? What’s wrong with him?”

“Hey, hey!” Poe scrabbles at his arms with sharp claws as he shoulders Poe’s shield and sword. “Ow, watch it!” Finn hisses, only for Poe to actually hiss back at him.

If it wasn’t so worrisome, Finn would probably laugh.

Rey apparently doesn’t need an answer, dashing off in the direction of the armory, which is nowhere near the exit and will definitely have their weapons. And hopefully the spellbook and the map. He starts after her but—

“Finn, wait! My mom’s ring!”

Finn frowns, adjusting Poe in his grip, and casts about the prison.

“Finn, come on!” Rey calls from down the hall.

There! He spies a flash of gold where it’s rolled with its chain into another locked cell, just barely out of reach.

“Poe, I can’t—”

Poe squirms impatiently in his arms so much Finn nearly drops him, but he lands easily on his feet. In a quick dash, he snatches the necklace from where it fell with his teeth and Finn hauls him back up and out.

Rey is bounding down the hall back toward them, her arms full, quarterstaff on her back.

“Come _on_ ,” she snaps, throwing weapons at him and the rest in her satchel.

Finn manages to catch his axes in their shoulder harness without dropping Poe but it’s a close thing. He wavers. It’d be impossible to fight their way out holding on to Poe as he is. Maybe he can—

“Hold on, buddy,” he grunts. Gingerly, he puts two hands under Poe’s stomach and lifts him to the window he snuck in. “Can you get out that way?” 

“Yeah,” Poe calls, worming his way onto the ledge. “There’s a tree, I’m pretty sure I can make it down!” He turns back, his mother’s ring still dangling from his teeth. “Take this! Black Squadron is making a diversion, they should’ve pulled out by now.”

Finn stares up at Poe, still slightly unnerved at this black cat speaking with Poe’s voice, but he catches the ring as it drops and loops it around his neck. Why is such a little thing so important? He shakes his head; a problem for another time. He turns back up to Poe and nods.

“See you on the other side.”

The cat nods back and disappears, quick and quiet as a shadow. Finn unsheathes his axes and tucks their harness into Rey’s satchel, keeping the shorter, heavier one defending in his left and a longer, light, wickedly curved version in his right.

“Black Squadron’s clearing the way for us!”

She unshoulders her quarterstaff, already drawing an agility spell in the space ahead of them. “How do you know that?”

“Poe said they were making a diversion, didn’t you hear him?” Finn feels the spell trickle down his spine and shivers. Stars, he’ll never get used to that.

Rey frowns, draws another sigil. “What? He hasn’t said a word.”

Finn frowns back, following her down the prison hall to the door. “He definitely said words.”

“Oh, that’s not good.”

Whether she means the locked door or Poe talking, he’s not sure. She tosses her head, trades places, and he pushes out a deep breath. He brings in his focus to the silvery weave of magic in the air, ever-present in his second-sight and ready to work. With the curve of his axe, he parts the weave, bending it to the configuration he needs to blow the door right off its hinges. 

He glances back at her, axes still aloft, buried in the spell. She’s worried, he can see that much. But just beyond the door, he hears shouting and crashing that sounds disturbingly too much like a full-on battle. Too much to ask about it now.

“Later?”

Rey nods, gripping her quarterstaff tight. “Later.”

Finn purses his lips. The spell weave wavers in the air in front of the door, but this one feels more comfortable. This is a spell he knows. With a vicious grin, he pulls his axe back, strikes the weave. The door just behind implodes in on itself and explodes out, plowing through the prison guards beyond. Through the opening, he sees Black Squadron. Snap and Karé are back to back, Suralinda and Jess further back, holding their own against probably twenty guards.

Finn launches himself right into it.

Rey’s already whispering a spell to shield them, another to summon an earthen puppet; her latest trick. There’s a brief pause in the fight, the golem rips itself from the earth, Finn strikes back into the weave, cleaving a new spell. A ripple of energy floods the room, an instant of shock. An explosion of noise shrieks where his axe splits the spell and the First Order guards scramble to cover their ears.

The diversion works, perfect enough to get Black Squadron to regroup before the Order guards are on them again.

“Where’s Poe?” Snap calls, swinging his war hammer into a guard on the left.

Finn glances to him, hooking his axe around another’s sword and pulling them off balance as he shouts, “Outside! Something happened, he’s a cat!”

Snap’s so dumbfounded he doesn’t parry the next strike, but luckily Karé does it for him.

“Are you _trying_ to get killed here?” she snarls.

Finn pants, grins at the starry-eyed look Snap gives her.

“So help me Snap, I will divorce you if you don’t. Fucking. Block!”

She side-swipes another attack with her shield. That seems to get his head back in the game and he dodges an incoming thrust. They’re side by side again, covering Finn’s back. He sees Rey out of the corner of his eye take out two guards with a well-placed twist, her puppet tossing two more guards into the far wall. Jess and Suralinda aren’t far behind, Jess fighting from the floor, Suralinda now nocking arrows from the rafters. He slashes his way to the door, slices the weave to a familiar shape.

“Cover!”

He ducks, and the rest of Black Squadron do the same. His limbs are getting heavy, magic taking its toll, but he still has energy for this. The weave wavers for a moment, just as he wanted, before it expands out and knocks the guards off their feet. In an instant, the team is back up. Another, they’re out the door. With a sigil, Rey’s golem becomes solid, a heavy boulder blocking the prison exit. They’re free, everyone miraculously intact.

With one exception. A black cat streaks into view, which nearly causes Finn to stop dead in his tracks. He can hear all the questions Poe’s screaming at him but no one else can seem to. He darts for his horse, fumbling his axes and Poe into his arms again.

“Finn!” Snap calls again. “Where’s Poe? We can’t leave without him!”

Finn brandishes the cat—Poe—only slightly sorry at the look he gets from him. “I’ve got him, let’s move!”

Black Squadron starts to protest but behind them, the boulder in front of the door starts to shake. He jumps into his saddle, grabbing the reins of Poe’s horse and urging his own on, trusting the others to follow.

“Well, that went well!” Poe shouts.

Finn looks down at Poe, just long enough to pass him a peeved look. Then, he shakes his head and focuses back on the trail, determined to put distance between them and the prison, hoping they’re not followed.

Yeah. Went great.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello exposition lol

“That all sounds very exciting, but can someone tell me why Commander Dameron is still a cat?”

Finn stands in General Organa’s briefing room with the others and one conspicuous black cat pacing the length of the war table. Well, briefing room may be a little beneath the bar for what the room actually is. Technically, the general is royalty and the war room is her palace dining hall, since converted. The general stands at the head of the table, advisors to her right, Black Squadron knights to the left. And they’ve just finished their report. The good news? The spellbook is back in the right hands. The bad? The First Order is on the move and the conflict is suddenly sprinting forward. Added to the fact that Poe still hasn’t been able to shift back into his human form, Finn’s starting to think this whole undercover gambit was a failure. He stares at his boots and the beautiful swirling tile underfoot, just hoping what they’ve done is enough to gain an advantage against the Order.

“It’s my fault,” he admits to the floor, Poe’s ring suddenly hanging very heavy on his neck. “I lost control of a spell weave.”

Finn’s nerves wind tight. Leia’s eyes narrow but she waits. Of course she waits, royalty never asks for clarification.

“I was—”

“ _We—”_ Rey cuts in, “—were doing a transmutation spell on the cell bars. Poe breached the weave trying to get us out.”

She throws Finn a look that and it makes him feel a bit better. “It was an accident—”

“What were you doing using a _transmutation_ spell?” Leia sighs.

More than anything, she sounds exasperated. Absolutely the opposite of what Finn was expecting. He’s been with Leia’s forces long enough to prove himself useful. Long enough to know where his loyalties lie and feel the sting of loss. This isn’t the first mission gone awry, not even the first where Poe’s been injured. But it is the first where something’s happened that he can’t fix. Finn’s stomach turns at the thought of that, guilt building. In the First Order, a mistake like that would be punished. Severely. He’s experienced it firsthand, though what he remembers is spotty at best. Something deep and distant bubbles in his memory. Reconditioning. Fire and pain, A spell sneaking under his skin and tightening around his bones, binding him mind and body. So many others like him, still under the spell. He shakes himself, just to keep the memory down.

“It was the only option we had,” Rey is saying. “The spell worked! It just…did something extra.”

“You’re lucky he didn’t _die_ ,” Leia admonishes and Finn feels sick. “Transmutation gone wrong has put more than its’ fair share of seasoned sorcerers in the ground.” She sighs, pinching her brow in a rare show of exhaustion. “The only thing I can think that saved his life was his own shifter magic. Have you noticed anything else off about him?”

Poe decides to take that moment to speak up, slinking to the center of the table. “ _He_ can speak for himself, you know. They didn’t know we were coming, don’t blame them for trying to get out. It was part of the mission!” Finn feels the tight knot in his chest ease. Poe glances back at him before he continues. “I’m fine! It’ll just take a quick spell to change me back, right?”

It’s a fair question. If anyone could do it, it would be Leia. She is the last of the Arch Mages, the single paladin sorcerer left with the magical heft to do something like that. Finn looks expectantly at Leia, and Poe’s ears flick back in annoyance when no one but Finn seems to acknowledge him.

“Well?” Leia prompts.

“He seems the same,” Snap offers, “attitude and all. Except he can’t speak.”

The rest of Black Squadron seems to frown at that, bringing back a little fear Finn had forgotten. Poe’s magic lets him speak even in animal form. He’s heard it on enough occasions to know that without question. So if the other can’t hear him then something has _really_ gone wrong.

“Yes, I can,” Poe grumbles.

No one responds to that and Finn’s hand clenches uncertainly at his side. He exchanges a look with Poe. He knows exactly the question Poe’s not asking. It’s the same as his. “You all didn’t hear him just now?”

All faces at the war table turn to him. _Oh, not good_.

“Do you mean you can?” Leia asks, eyebrows creeping up.

Finn frowns. “Yes,” is all he can manage. Why should he be the only one to hear him?

“Commander, look at me.” Poe dutifully turns to face her and she narrows her eyes. “Say something.”

Poe’s tail twitches back and forth but Finn hears him say, “Hope is like the sun. If you only believe when you can see it…”

It’s one of Leia’s favorite proverbs, a rallying reminder to burn in the fight against the First Order. The fact that she didn’t finish it tells Finn everything he needs to know. Poe’s shoulders slump, his misery evident even as a cat. Finn can’t stand it.

“You’ll never make it through the night,” he finishes.

It pulls all eyes back to him, Poe’s included. He wants to offer him some comfort, and this is all he has right now. He just hopes Poe understands that. Leia’s lips purse, she levels him a serious look.

“You said you worked the weave?”

This time, there’s a small note of wonder in her voice and Finn has to keep his questions in check. He glances at Rey again, not sure what to expect but happy to find her solidly there. Right now is the time for honesty, especially if it will solve this problem. A little part of him is scared to admit there’s not much he wouldn’t do to help Poe.

“Yes. Rey did the incantation but the magic was mine.”

“I couldn’t hold it and draw the sigils at the same time,” Rey interjects. “I wasn’t sure it would work but it did. The bars turned to vines.”

Leia glances between the three of them. “That shouldn’t be possible,” she says softly. “Yet here we are. Curious…”

She trails off a moment, eyes glinting with a hint of second-sight. She blinks rapidly at the space between Finn and Poe. Then, it’s gone and she’s back in charge.

“I gather you landed in prison but you retrieved the spellbook. If this is the one we’ve been hoping for, it may contain the spell to summon the Guardian Army of Ajan Kloss, which we desperately need if we’re to win this fight.”

There’s a palpable change in the air and everyone straightens, even Poe. Despite the transmutation trouble, there’s a bigger problem to deal with.

“What else did you uncover on your mission?”

Finn exchanges a look with Rey. It wasn’t good news but just the fact they’d been able to uncover it is a victory in itself. With a minute nod, Finn unrolls the map they recovered and Rey points to it, “The First Order is planning an attack at the southern border, at the edge of the Jakku deserts. They’re amassing forces there, planning to cut north through the farmlands.”

“Slash and burn,” Finn adds darkly. “By estimates, they’ll have a force ready and moving in a fortnight. If we’re right, they’ll be adding fighters as they go. In less than a month, they could be at the castle gates.”

Leia squares her shoulders decisively. “We’ll have to deal with this quickly. Once they discover the map is missing, plans may change. Captain Wexley, I need you to take your knights to the southern border. Confirm this report. Send any civilians in their path to the castle to shelter. Rey, go with them, you know the location well. See what else you can find.” She pauses, a familiar hard smile in place. “Raise a little hell while you’re at it. We’ll search through the spellbook and assemble a plan here.”

“What about me?” Finn says it the same instant Poe does and he can’t help glancing at him.

Leia levels them a shrewd look. “You stay here. I want you in the training yard for now. Poe, I assume, asked the same. You’re with me, Commander. Let’s see if we can get you right.”

Finn slumps but he dutifully follows Rey and Black Squadron out. He throws one last look over his shoulder at Poe, a pang of guilt in his gut. Makes sense she’d want him to train if _that_ is the result he gets trying to use magic without his weapons. Hell, maybe he should just stop this right now. The sliver of doubt in his chest gets a little wider with every step. Having magic enough to break free of the First Order is one thing but wielding it? For all his combat training, no amount of it has prepared him to walk as a Spellblade. Months of magic exercises with Rey and General Organa apparently haven’t helped him master this as well as he thought.

“So that’s what you meant by later? Poe?”

He nearly jumps when Rey eases a hand on his shoulder, watching him with staid eyes.

“Yeah.” He has to look away. If he doesn’t, Rey will see right through him.

“Leia isn’t punishing you by asking you to stay. This isn’t the First Order, remember?”

The sick feeling returns and she squeezes his arm in a comforting sort of way. Ok, so maybe she doesn’t have to look at him to see through him.

“I know,” he huffs a helpless laugh. “You heard her though, Poe’s lucky to be alive.”

“Try not to dwell on it, it was an _accident_. It’s important you remember that.”

At that, he has to turn. Rey’s looking at him with such sincerity that some of the guilt slips out of him. Maybe she’s right. He takes a deep breath and straightens his shoulders.

“I just hope the general can put this right,” he admits. The _I wish I could_ left on his tongue goes unsaid.

“If anyone can, it’d be her,” Rey smiles. “Don’t worry.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i know, not the most exciting. just hang in there


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a bit long, hope that's alright!

Finn rolls in the dirt, Poe’s ring swinging free from under his shirt as he rounds on the spelled opponent chasing him around the training yard. With a grunt, he brings his axes up, blocks a strike from its wooden weapon and stumbles back. He sees the weave in his second-sight but he’s determined even though it shifts ahead of him, tempting. He _could_ use it, but that’s not the point. It’s been hours and _hours_ since the general and Poe disappeared into the castle depths. The day’s practically over, rainclouds and dusk rolling closer over the horizon. He’s practiced every spell he knows to the point of frustration. The training yard is a wreck, pieces of puppet and straw and debris strewn everywhere. His aggravation’s built so much that everyone else in the yard has vanished. Right now, more than anything, he wants to tear the damn puppet to pieces with his bare hands.

In fact, why not? The stupid poppet gets a jab past his axes and fuck, that’s fucking _it_. He launches himself at it with a shout of frustration, tearing the stick from its side, its stupid wooden arms from the barrel of its stupid body. He lands on top of it, burying its straw face in the dirt and wrestling it into submission even as it bucks beneath him. His spell weave crackles in his fingers against his will, sparks setting fire to the puppet pieces he’s holding on to. Frustration bubbles into fury, at himself, at this whole magic thing. The sparks shift to a new, unfamiliar orange fire. It climbs his arms and doesn’t burn, even as the marionette’s wooden body pops and hisses.

What’s the point? The First Order is out there, creeping ever closer and he’s just _here_.

Rey’s on a mission without him. Poe’s possibly irreparably transformed. Why can’t he control this better? Why does his magic only do what he wants it to in the middle of a fight?

_Why did he even leave the Order?_

The last thought speaks to him in a slithering, familiar voice that’s not his own. It throws him so far off that his conjured flames disappear in an instant. The poppet bucks again, landing him on his ass in the dirt. Cold fear replaces what anger he had, the marionette weaves on its stick legs, still burning and staggering toward him. Another kind of fire flashes in his second-sight, memories he can’t reckon with streak behind his eyes

He curls in on himself. “No, no no.”

He throws out a hand against the shadows, Poe’s ring burning on his chest, and strikes the weave. The marionette explodes, shattering into tiny pieces. The blast resonates to his bones, pulling him far enough from the memory that he can hear someone calling his name.

“Finn!”

He turns, panting, and sees a wonderful, welcome figure dashing across the yard toward him.

“Poe?”

Finn staggers to his feet just in time to catch Poe as he crashes into him. Thank the stars, Poe’s _here_. Finn chokes back the harsh remaining feeling and wraps Poe in his arms. He’s flayed from head to toe, open and raw and exposed but it start to fade when Poe squeezes him tight.

“Leia did it,” he breathes, more relieved than he can say.

Poe pulls back, handsome and whole again but concern in his eyes, holding Finn by the elbows. “What _was_ that? Are you alright?”

“I _really_ should be asking you that.” Finn’s so relieved to see him that he doesn’t see the problem, at first.

“I’m fine,” Poe says, squeezing his arms, reassuring in his grip. “It’s just—”

Then he sees it. “Poe, _what the hell_?”

“I didn’t actually do it.”

The general glides into view just over Poe’s shoulder, causing a little frisson of surprise to shiver down Finn’s spine. Maybe those First Order stories were true; does she read minds like they said? Part of him thinks it might be true but no, surely not. She glances around the training yard with a vague look of amusement. Finn stiffens in Poe’s grip, expecting a reprimand. He feels Poe’s hands slip away and he takes a look himself. Stars, he really lost control, didn’t he? But that’s the least pressing issue right now. Poe’s shifter magic is gone. The faint orange aura usually visible in Finn’s second-sight is gone and Poe feels completely, disturbingly void.

“What happened?” The question rips out of his throat, rougher then he intended. It’s not his place to question but Leia doesn’t seem to mind.

Not First Order. Right.

“I may be an Arch Mage, but I have little knowledge of shifter magic,” she says evenly. “The only way to get him back to human form was to bind him.”

Finn sucks in a sharp breath. That’s heavy magic. Dark. He remembers, shivers; very few are bound by choice, so, “Why?”

Leia narrows her eyes just slightly. “There’s something tangled in his magic. He’s unable to transform and I can’t undo what’s been done. So it was this or have him stay as a cat. I think he vastly prefers the former.”

Poe nods encouragingly but Finn scrubs a hand down his face. She knows more than she’s letting on, he can feel it, but he doesn’t dare ask. Instead, he says, “So how do we fix this?”

“We visit my dad,” Poe chimes in. “He’s a shifter, he’ll know what to do.”

“I had my suspicions, I didn’t think I’d be able to fix him. This is why I asked you to stay.” Leia reaches out and squeezes his arm sympathetically. To say that he’s surprised would be an understatement. “You two need to go together. Feel through your magic, through new spells. Don’t shut it out. Kes will be able to unbind him but I have a feeling he'll need your help. Join us here when you get this fixed, and be careful on your way. The First Order is watching everywhere.”

The general glides back the way she came, apparently closing the conversation. Finn’s mind-reading suspicions are not allayed, to say the least, but he doesn’t miss the _when_ and not _if_. Her faith is a little more comforting than he’d admit; that doesn’t mean he’s not floundering with the information. One tension eases in his chest, quickly replaced by a new one. Of course they would go together. Finn wouldn’t have it any other way. But what's wrong with Poe’s magic? Why does Leia think Poe’s father will need his help? Will Kes even _want_ his help when he sees what’s become of his son? A million other questions swirl in his head but he tamps them down and turns back to Poe, who’s looking at him with an expression Finn didn’t expect. It’s a little soft, unguarded, his eyes lighting on the ring still around Finn’s neck. Finn’s stomach clenches and he pulls the ring over his head.

“Poe, I’m sorry—”

“Hey, it’s ok,” Poe interjects gently. “You couldn’t have known. This isn’t your fault.”

Finn purses his lips and sighs. Hearing Poe say it helps loosen the knot in his chest a little more. “Do you think this’ll work?”

It’s hard to give a voice to that one shouting doubt but he can’t help it.

“It will,” Poe says, like he’s already sure of the outcome. Finn chances a smile, bolstered by

Poe's faith, warmed when he smiles back. Poe reaches for him but he seems to think better of it and Finn feels a bit bereft. “It’ll take about a day to get there. It’s late, but I think we should leave now. Get as far as we can while there’s still light.”

Right. Back to business.

“Yeah. Of course.”

The threat of the First Order still hangs over them. Better to get back sooner rather than later. Who knows if the Order will move forward with their plan or not. Finn presses the ring back into Poe’s hand. There’s a flicker of something on his face but it’s gone as soon as it appears. So, Finn shoves down on all of those messy feelings as best he can and squares his shoulders.

“Lead the way.”

In no time, he’s changed into something clean, armored and packed, following Poe down the road to Yavin Province. It doesn’t dawn on him until the second moon has started to rise that this is their first solo mission together. Sure, they’ve been in skirmishes, worked and trained and laughed together in the castle. But there’s always been someone else to cool the heat Finn feels in Poe’s presence. Except for now. There’s a heat in his chest that won’t seem to dissipate, and they’re riding to see Poe’s father, to dig into his magic. Something about that seems intensely intimate. He’s not sure why it strikes him like it does. So he watches Poe sway on his paint horse’s back, cuirass glinting a few paces ahead of him in the growing gloom.

They’re a few hours out from the castle so he could’ve aired all the questions still buzzing in his head. But he hasn’t. He doesn’t even know where to start and he’s too tired to do it anyway. His work in the training yard has finally sunk in and he’s absolutely exhausted. Poe has been lost in his own thoughts, not asking much beyond a few cursory questions about his mission with Rey. At this point, the trail ahead has nearly disappeared into the dark and the early spring chill is feeling bone-deep. Rainclouds that followed them from the castle rumble ominously, closing the gap between horizon and moons.

“We should stop,” he calls. “BeeBee’s gonna twist an ankle if you keep going.”

Poe startles in his saddle and BeeBee throws his head with a snort, like he can’t agree more.

“Yeah.” Poe looks back over his shoulder, seems to come back to himself. “Yeah, you’re right.”

They ride just a bit further until the trees lining the trail open to a clearing. Finn dismounts with a deep sigh, taking Dio’s reins in hand and stretching out the ache in his legs. Thunder rumbles again and he ties Dio to a nearby tree as Poe pulls BeeBee up next to him.

“Think we should set up a tent,” Poe murmurs.

“I’ll get a fire while we can,” Finn nods.

It’s good to have something to do with his hands. There’s just enough moonlight filtering through the trees at the clearing’s edge that he can gather downed limbs for a fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he spies Poe sliding the saddles from the horses, letting them graze as he strings a shelter up. Finn clears a spot nearby and circles a few stones, then takes a deep breath. He still feels exhausted, depleted, but Leia did say he should feel through his magic. Whatever that means. He’s still frustrated, unsure, but the hot angry feeling at himself has mostly subsided. Maybe it was Rey’s words, or Poe’s. Maybe it's letting himself fester or even just that perpetual spark of hope that won't seem to die. But he does feel better, more in control, and it can’t hurt to try.

He takes one more steadying breath and finds his second-sight. A familiar silvery weave shimmers as he focuses on the pile of sticks, unsheathing an axe. He frowns for a second, unfamiliar orange sparking in the plait again. Surprising that it’s still present; he’d thought it was just a product of anger. But he’s still learning, right? Could just be something new, doesn’t have to be bad.

_Ok, ok, feel through the magic._

With the curve of his axe, he presses in, allowing sensation to guide him. Just like learning his first spell. Nothing to it, right? He wants fire, surely his magic can do something as simple as that with everything else he’s learned. A pattern emerges in the weave and he follows it slowly, tracing the edges with his axe until it comes full circle. Heat licks at his skin and the orange sparks fall into the wood, catching fire in reddish flash as easy as you please.

Huh. It worked. He stares. Maybe there was something to that _feeling through the magic_ after all.

“Didn’t know you could do that.”

Poe’s voice breaks in and evidently Finn's not the only one that’s stupefied. Poe offers some dried and filled wrap food Finn’s way. He plops down in the grass next to him, close enough that their knees touch. Poe's taken off his light armor, looking soft, vulnerable in the firelight. The cotton of his undershirt parts, shadows flickering at the hollow of his throat.

“I didn’t either.” Finn’s mouth dries out a bit and he busies himself taking off his own armor.

“It’s really somethin’ to watch you work sometimes.”

Finn’s fingers freeze for a second before he can get them to do what he wants. “I’m still learning, you know.”

“I know. What you did today was pretty amazing, though. Scary,” Poe admits, “but pretty spectacular still. If you’re able to explode people on the battlefield, we might not need a guardian army.”

Finn opens his mouth to argue because it just sounds so _wrong_ but Poe’s smiling in that soft, teasing way. For some reason, it makes him feel better.

“You just wanna sit back and watch then?”

Poe snorts and eases back, planting one hand in the grass behind him and taking a bite of his own wrap. “Sure, hotshot. Let you take all the glory? You wish.”

Finn laughs at that. “Didn’t know _Commander Dameron_ , knight of the Republic went in for glory. Someone better tell the bards so they quit singin’ your selfless praises.”

“Ok, you got me there. Just a sap, after all.” Poe’s still smiling, but it takes on a softer shade. “I’m serious, though. I've never seen a Spellblade before. Never even heard of it, much less one that managed to give the First Order the slip. Finn, what you’ve done, how far you’ve come from the Order, it’s…”

“It was the right thing to do, the only thing I could do.” He means it. “It’s what you would’ve done.”

Poe watches him for a moment, eyes hooded and dark before he finishes his wrap and settles back in front of the fire. Thunder rolls again, closer this time. Finn takes a bite, watching Poe watch the fire. The teasing mood shifts into something more somber. There’s silence for a little while and something about it, something on Poe’s face twists Finn’s heart.

“Poe,” he asks softly, “are you alright?”

Poe seems to snap out of his thoughts. “I think so.” A hand rubs at the shadow on his jaw and he shakes his head. “I just…I haven’t ever _not_ been able to fly,” he sighs, staring up at the stars. “This…empty feeling, it doesn’t feel very good, you know? For as long as I can remember, I could shift and now that I can’t, everything feels off. The last time I visited my dad, I flew there. Made it in under six hours, beat my last record. I guess traveling this way makes me miss it more.”

“For what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

Poe glances at him and smiles gently. “Not your fault. You gotta stop being sorry.”

That finally makes a smile break over Finn’s face. “I’ll work on it.”

The silence between them feels easier now. A breeze plays in the grass and the fire, wafting the scent of far-off rain closer. Finn pushes out a breath. He pauses, unsure if he can ask. But they haven’t ever been like this, so why not?

“So…what’s it like?”

Poe quirks an eyebrow at him. “Shifting? You have magic, so you know kind of know what it feels like. Most of that stuff feels the same, I think.”

“No, no,” he tries again. “I meant…flying. What does that feel like?”

The last thing he wants to do is make Poe feel worse but the look on his face when he talks about flying feels worth the ask. Poe’s dark eyes flicker in the firelight, like he might find the right words there.

“It’s like…falling, but never finding the end.”

Finn catches his eye and gives him a lopsided grin. “Yeah, I figured that.”

Poe turns his face back to the sky and smiles ruefully. “Ok, ok. It’s harder to explain than you think. It’s like…once you taste it, you never want to walk again. Everything on the ground seems to drag against you. It’s like going through the world always looking up, just waiting to get back there. If you fly high enough, you never doubt you’ll make it through the night.”

For a second, all Finn can do is sit, quietly stunned. It strikes him; every fiber of his body wants to say _I think I love you_. But, he swallows it down. Not the time or place really, is it?

“If that’s true, I’m amazed you’re ever on the ground at all,” he says instead.

That brings Poe’s eyes back to him; Finn burns. “Some things are worth being grounded for.”

And doesn’t that just suck the air right out of him. He reaches out before he realizes it, lays a hand firmly on Poe’s knee. He looks at Poe, this time in second-sight, and feels the void of Poe’s magic more poignantly. It cuts through him in a way he doesn’t fully understand. It’s loss, and he knows that, but it doesn’t feel wholly like his own. _What_ is _that?_ A tight, hot instant passes and Finn feels like he’s falling. Poe’s lips part and Finn finds he can finally breathe.

“We’re gonna fix this,” he murmurs. “I promise.”

Poe’s leaning closer, voice low. “I know.”

Poe’s eyes flit down. He opens his mouth to say something else but there’s a flash of lightning and a clap of thunder shake the trees and suddenly it’s _pouring_. Finn curses, scrambles to get his armor and dashes right behind Poe to their makeshift shelter. What he doesn’t realize until they’re crawling in together is that there is, in fact, only one tent set up.

“Well,” Poe grumbles, “that snuck up, didn’t it?”

Finn tries to reply but words stick thick in his throat.

Poe seems to take his silence as displeasure and rubs the back of his neck, half to dry it, half as an awkward gesture. “I know it’s tight, but we’ve had tight before.”

Poe’s right, of course. It shouldn’t matter; they’ve shared quarters on trips. Not quite this close, though close enough. But quite abruptly it matters very, very much. Poe huffs a laugh, shaking the damp out of his curls. Finn can barely see him in the dark but his eyes reflect with a sheen only shifter eyes do. It’s comforting, actually, to see Poe’s magic still shining through the binding.

“Thanks for setting up,” he manages, turning at last to settle against his travel mat and saddle, facing away from Poe thank you very much. If he doesn't, he's sure he's going to do something stupid. “I owe you one.”

“Sure,” Poe breathes, easing beside him. Finn hears him take a breath. He waits. But nothing more than a soft, “Night, Finn,” comes.

All he can do is parrot it back and focus on the rain. Maybe if he does that the inches between them will seem a little wider. Between the rain and Poe’s soft breathing and all the running his mind is doing, it’s some time before sleep finally comes.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp here we go  
> warnings for delightful cliches, violence, and character injury

In the morning, Poe makes breakfast. He’s up before Finn, which is a surprise in itself, tending to a small fire. Smells like salted pork, maybe some kind of cheese? And where did he find dry wood? _Guess he planned ahead_. Finn lays on his back for a few minutes, trying not to let the night’s events play out in his head over and over. It’s not working. Why didn’t he say it? Should’ve said it. When did he finally sleep? Tenuous sensations, phantom tendrils of a warmth pressed next to him and an arm across his chest tingle in his skin but he’s not sure what’s dream and what’s not. With an exasperated sigh, he crawls out of their makeshift tent into a bright, crisp dawn. He has to stop, take a breath. Out here in the middle of nowhere, for just a moment, it seems like the war is so far away. The birds are chirping in the glen, Poe’s mumbling a song as he cooks. It’s almost perfect, domestic and comforting.

He wonders if Poe feels the same.

But it can’t last. There’s work still to do. By Finn’s mark, they should reach Poe’s family home by sundown. Almost absently, he stares down the road. A breeze shakes the trees there, the trail yawning and twisting ahead in a way that makes his nerves wind tight.

“You alright there, buddy?”

Poe’s voice breaks into his reverie, a toasted sandwich in each hand steaming in the morning air.

“Yeah…”

He's not. Not really. There's something hanging over him, a sense of dread he hadn't felt before, but he shakes his head. Probably just the same anxiety, nothing to get worked up about. He joins Poe around the fire, deciding to enjoy this while he can.

Later, when all business is taken care of and they're readying to leave, the feelings from the night before start to creep in again. Poe’s refitting his saddle, BeeBee snuffles at his hair. He smiles and pets his nose, curls tousled and eyes bright, looking every inch a gallant knight of the Republic. Finn's chest constricts and for an instant, he wants to throw all caution to the wind and kiss Poe in the gentle morning light.

_Sap_.

True. But the opportunity slips away as Poe jumps into his saddle. Finn shakes his head and he follows suit. Still. Poe meets his eyes, smile making him feel buoyant and light. So much so Finn has to clear his throat. _Get a grip_.

"So, what's your dad like?"

Immediately, he feels silly asking but it seems like a perfect way to pass the time. Poe's stories of Kes Dameron and Shara Bey light up his face, animate his arms in a way that makes Finn's heart melt. Occasionally, Poe picks at his the chain holding mother's ring, drawing Finn's attention to where it might lay beneath his cuirass. Which leads him to think of Poe's throat lit by firelight and the stars reflected in Poe's eyes. _Lovesick fool_ , his brain supplies. Yes, sure, waxing romantic, definitely a fool, but it's an excellent way to distract himself from the disquiet growing at the base of his skull.

They ride together like that, side by side, well into the afternoon. After a while, after they've lapsed into easy silence again, something grabs Finn's attention. He glances at the sky, then back at the trail. A cold shiver trembles down his back, trepidation blooming into full dread as he stares at the bend in the trail ahead.

He stops dead.

Before he can think twice, Finn snatches BeeBee's reins and drags Poe off the road deep into the trees.

"Hey, what are you--"

"Shh!" Finn motions _down_ with his hand and dismounts. "Someone's coming up the trail."

"Yeah, no shit. That's what roads are _for_ , buddy," Poe frowns, slipping down BeeBee's side, fingers already sneaking for his pommel even as his mouth disagrees.

Finn turns back just long enough to toss Poe a glare before he tethers Dio and unsheathes his axes. The horses canter nervously and without another word, he sneaks just to the treeline, wishing Rey was there to conjure a silencing spell. He hears Poe curse but doesn't miss the sound of his sword as it slides from its scabbard and his soft footsteps behind.

They wait, and Finn's gut rolls. _Not good, not good_. Whoever is coming up the road is setting off every alarm bell in his head. Dread settles hot and fluttering between his shoulders. It takes a minute or two, but soon enough Finn hears a clattering set of wheels and a cart rounds the bend.

He hears Poe suck in a sharp breath next to him. "Finn, is that what I think it is?"

Finn's stomach drops all the way to his feet. _Oh no_.

"Yep."

It's a prison cart. A First Order cart as the bloody red insignia emblazoned on its side tells, filled with upwards of twenty creatures. Dread shifts to anger and Finn grits his teeth. There's humans mostly, adults and children alike, and Finn's stomach rolls again. Even a few elves and tieflings have fallen prey, all shackled together.

"We gotta do somethin'," Poe whispers, at his elbow now.

Finn can't agree more. He counts ten guards, but he likes those odds. There's two on horseback wielding crossbows, one driving the cart, their leader at the point of the caravan per standard First Order formation. All of their bodies are painted the same fierce bloody red, a harsh slash of black coal at their eyes. But they're lightly armored, which causes a crease in Finn's brow.

Either they weren't expecting resistance, or there's something more than meets the eye. Finn glances at Poe, the cart drawing near. There's only moments to decide. But Poe's eyes are hard, sword and shield already in hand and there's no choice about it.

"You go high, wait ten seconds," he breathes.

Then he's off. He sneaks to the rear of the caravan as Poe goes to the front, still hidden. He counts, _one, two,_ before he jumps from the treeline. _Three_ \--he readies his axes. The spell weave flames in his second-sight, wreathed with that new fire. _Four, five--_ a cut, a twist, and his first spell explodes out.

Gods, vicious elation burns through him. Maybe he's not good at delicate spells like Rey but this? _This_ he knows. The spell radiates at ankle height, tearing through the wheels of the cart and the flesh of three guards closest to him. There's an instant of confusion, then the scene erupts into chaos.

The three nearest crumple, screaming and clutching at their legs. Finn sees Poe dash in a flurry from the trees. The officer's horse at the head of the column rears back, prances out of harms way, there's the twang of crossbows firing, a thunk as they strike Poe's shield. Finn sprints forward, putting the downed guards out of their misery. With another twist and slice, he fashions a rupturing spell over the cart's lock, and shouts,

"Get back!"

Those closest to the cart gate turn and cover but he's controlled the explosion enough that the nearest are only mildly singed. Behind the heads of the prisoners, he sees Poe leap, stabbing a bowman from his horse and launching an arrow from the crossbow left into the neck of the other charging toward him. The officer has her horse back under control, two more of the guards are rounding to flank him and that spurs Finn into action.

"Hold out your hands!"

The man closest to him does so, shaking in fear but smart enough to listen. There are magic-binding sigils on the manacles at his wrists but, as Finn remembers, none on the chains binding them together. He focuses the spell weave, bends it around the curve of his axes and strikes in. Oh wow. He wasn't sure it would work, but it's _perfect_. His axes slice through the chain like butter, pushing the spell plait through the metal and turning it to rust on the spot. He gets through one chain, two, then some of the prisoners scream in terror. Finn turns, only to barely dodge a sword and meet a crazed, painted face grinning wildly from the ground.

Or maybe he doesn't dodge it all the way. Quite abruptly, something hot and searing open on his thigh and he shouts. _Fuck, that hurts._ The fighter stabs at him again, narrowly missing. Finn hooks the heel of his axe around the sword's tip and throws himself from the cart.

With luck, he lands on the fighter, pinning her long enough to shout, "Run!" at the prisoners behind him. He can't hold her long; the fighter’s fist connects with his jaw. He’s dazed, she tosses him like a ragdoll and he lands on his back in the dirt. The First Order soldier screams, picking herself up from the dust and running at him sword first. A second appears from behind the cart, which means Poe must still be tied up with the other three. Fear sneaks into his chest but Finn grunts, hauls himself to his feet. One sword comes left, the other high. He catches one in an axe heel, the other glances off his cuirass, throws them off balance. He fumbles, manages to get enough space between them to strike the weave again.

His limbs are starting to shake but the spell takes. It shrieks through the air, the fighters all but drop their swords to cover their ears, and he slams his axes home, one left, one low.

Ok. Three left. Finn's panting but he can't stop. Poe's holding his own, dodging the two foot soldiers left and striking his own blows. One more down. But Poe doesn't see the officer. She's still astride her horse, pulled back from the action, and now that Finn can see her clearly in his second-sight, his heart nearly stops.

She's a sorcerer. Dark, fetid magic surrounds her in a miasma. Where she once was fighting Poe from her horse, with her soldiers distracting him, she's working a spell. Finn recognizes it instantly: First Order binding spell. The same that they used for him, for all First Order foot soldiers. The kind that binds the flesh and bones, stops all thought and will and desire. He staggers forward, leg bloodied and unsteady, horrible memories drowning him. The conjurer wheels round, covering behind the cart to finish as she senses him. _No, no no no_ \--

"Poe!"

Fear shatters out of him in a terrible, audible crack. He sways on his feet, arms trembling with effort as his spell radiates outward. It knocks the last First Order troops right off their feet, he hears the conjurer's horse panic and trip. His axes are gone, he’s not sure where. Blearily, he watches Poe slash his way through the last grounded soldier. _Where’s the sorcerer?_

There's a blow from the left at his waist, at the gap in his light cuirass. His knees crumple beneath him without warning.

“Finn?”

He hears Poe calling his name but everything is fuzzy at the edges. He looks around, but too fast. The world lurches and he loses his balance, toppling forward into the dirt. He manages to brace himself with one hand, keeps from face-planting, but he can’t really feel his fingers. Huh. That’s never happened before. Something wet and slimy trickles down his side and a creeping, bone-deep tingle charges every molecule in his body to burning. There’s pressure, terrible, pinching pressure, then _waves_ of heat, _oh—_

“Finn!”

_There’s the sorcerer_. Pain radiates from his side in sick, hot waves. It’s more pain than reconditioning but only just. Vague, loose memories swim back into focus, and he’s not sure if that makes it better or worse. He’s going to lose it. His stomach heaves, Poe’s still yelling for him, there’s a slick, sloppy sound and a horrific sensation of something slipping out of his skin.

He can’t hold himself up anymore. His elbow buckles, shoulder hits the dirt and forces a scream out of his throat. _Is that me?_ It doesn’t even sound familiar, low and terrible, wretched. He rolls just far enough onto his back to see the First Order sorcerer, her face twisted in fury, spell ruined and dissipated. A sword tipped in red plunges down. His vision swims but he rolls, forces himself away. The sword clangs in the dirt, he sees Poe’s boots, hears a clash of steel on steel. He’s bleeding, been stabbed. _Not good_ is the only coherent thought he has. His chest feels tight; it’s all he can do to suck in a breath. There’s another scream, not his own, then Poe’s face shimmers into view. Something hot and wet is on Finn’s face. Tears? His own? Must be, Poe’s eyes are dry but just barely, blood streaming down his cheek, looking more frantic than Finn’s ever seen. _Oh no._ His mind is muzzy, a dull, throbbing pain pulsing in his left side, but even with that he knows that Poe shouldn’t ever look like that.

“Hey.”

His voice sounds hoarse, even to himself. Poe founders into the dirt next to him, pulls Finn across a knee and cuts through the buckles of his cuirass. It hurts, _gods it hurts_ , but there’s no air in his lungs to scream. He wants to reach up, but he can’t really feel his hand, it won’t quite follow his command, growing more numb by the second as it lands on Poe’s chest. Leftover from his spells, used too much. Or does it have to do with the cold? It’s spring, the sun is shining, blinding him in fact, he shouldn’t feel the chill that’s starting to settle in his bones. The metal of Poe’s light armor should feel smooth but he can’t really feel that either. It’s ages, millennia, but he finally hears Poe speak.

“—be fine, you’re gonna be just fine, I’m gonna fix this, I promise.”

Poe’s babbling. Maybe he’s been speaking for some time. Finn doesn’t remember hearing him.

“’s ok. I know.” The words slur in his mouth, like his tongue is tangled in cotton.

Poe’s looks gutted, he scrambles at his own neck, pulling and shattering the delicate chain holding his mother’s ring. Finn frowns at that.

“Why’d yo..ou break?” Stars, words are hard.

Poe seems to register his question but doesn’t answer right off. He’s pulling the ring from the chain, slipping it onto Finn’s pinkie finger. If he hadn’t watched him do it, Finn’s not sure he’d have felt it anyway. Instead of heat, cold is coming in waves, deep and throbbing and aching. Only when the ring is on his finger does Poe shift, shuffling to his knees and bending over Finn. His mouth is still moving as he settles Finn’s shoulders against the earth but there’s a ringing that’s drowning out his words.

“—hurt.” Finn finally manages to catch a snippet of it. “I’m so sorry, just breathe. Breathe for me.”

Oh yeah. Breathe. He sucks in a breath just as Poe presses down. Oh, _there’s_ the scream he was trying to find. It rips out of him again, body thrashing against his will.

“Stay still, Finn, stay still!”

He flinches, wants to say _don’t shout,_ Poe’s voice overtaking the ringing in his ears, but his mouth won’t make words. Between the sap of his magic and the blood seeping down his side, he’s too tired. Blearily, he realizes. This might be it. Words sit behind his teeth but he can't get them to open.

_Broke my promise._

Poe’s hands press down on that hurt again, bloody and slick, and Finn’s vision dims.

_Didn't tell him_.

The ring on his finger burns white hot, he can hear Poe pleading with him to stay awake but he can’t.

He tries. But he can’t focus. Everything disappears.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yaaaa the sweets  
> oh my god this was so hard, hope it's ok

Consciousness dawns sluggishly, like a winter sunrise. Finn cracks his eyes and almost hisses at the light. His mouth feels incredibly dry, lids like sandpaper, but on the whole not as bad as he thought he’d be. Considering the circumstances.

Huh.

He exhales slowly, does a check. Ok. Face? Ouch. Arms? Less ouch. Legs? Ouch. Stomach? Oh, definitely ouch. Not as much as it was though. Everything feels vaguely sore but much better than he expected. Hands? The best of the bunch. Warmer, too. He cracks his eyes again, finally getting a good look at his surroundings.

This is not where he thought he'd be. Actually, he's not sure where he thought he'd be but it's definitely not here. He’s in some kind of homey room, a bed beneath him and patchwork quilt pulled up to his bare chest. And there’s a hand cradling his, soft and warm. Poe is snoring gently, slouched in an armchair that obviously wasn’t part of the room to begin with, his fingers tangled in Finn's. Finn's heart clenches. There are dark circles under Poe's eyes, stubble on his jaw like it's been growing for days, a long cut on the ridge of his right cheek. Finn frowns. That came close. Too close. He shifts just a little, fear making him cling to Poe's hand a little tighter.

It's not meant to wake him, but Poe stirs at the pressure. He gasps softly, like he's coming out of a dream. When he registers Finn's awake, the look that breaks over his face is close to heartbreaking.

" _Finn_ , thank gods," he breathes, leaning forward, his other hand coming to squeeze Finn's wrist, eyes wide and dark and fragile. "You're awake. How do you feel? Are you alright? What do you need--"

Finn chuckles. It hurts, but he’s still smiling. "You're gonna have to slow down, buddy, you're talkin' faster than you fly and I'm definitely at slug speed."

Poe chokes down a wet laugh, burying his face in the blanket, resting his forehead on Finn's knuckles. "Ok, ok ok,” he mumbles, muffled, “I just--I'm so _glad_ you're awake."

Finn takes a deep breath, pulling himself out of the pillows. He doesn't get far, just far enough to realize how sore he really is, and he groans. Stars, he hasn't felt this stove up since the binding spell was broken. Poe sits up as he moves, fretting at his side, “Wait, don’t do that, take it easy!”

Finn relents, easing back and pushing that breath out. Everything hurts, but Poe’s still holding his hand and that helps more than he’d like to admit. The heat in his chest is back, spreading and feeling tangibly hot under his skin where Poe’s fingers lay.

“What happened?” His whole body tingles but he tries to focus. Vaguely, he remembers the fight. Freeing some prisoners, then— “Wait, I got stabbed, didn’t I?”

Poe bites his lip in consternation. “Yeah. You did. It was…pretty bad.”

“Pretty bad is an understatement,” someone calls from the door.

Poe finally looks away, turning to frown at who Finn can only assume to be Kes Dameron.

“ _Dad_ , c’mon.”

Kes smiles gamely, trundling into the room, a stack of clothes in one hand. He looks every inch the grizzled father figure, and Finn imagines Poe might look the same in time. He shares Poe’s dusky tan skin and warm eyes, evidence of his lineage in the lines of Poe’s face and shoulders. His clothes are rough and homespun but, like the house itself, he exudes a sort of calm, weathered but welcoming.

“No sense in making light of it, son,” Kes admonishes, settling at the end of the bed. “It took some deep magic to keep you out of the next world.”

Finn blinks rapidly at that. And he thought Poe was honest.

“What magic?” he frowns.

Poe’s is bound, his own magic was failing. It’s not like any allies were suddenly swooping in. Father and son exchange a glance and Kes pats his foot as he rises, depositing the clothes at Finn’s side.

“Why don’t you get dressed? Come have lunch, you’ve had nothing but bone broth for two days. We can chat over some meat pie.”

As ominous as that sounds, his tone brooks no room for argument and at the mention of food, Finn’s stomach definitely agrees. _Two days…_

“Thank you,” he murmurs.

Kes nods, then he’s out the door, leaving Poe looking at him warily. He finally untangles his fingers and it leaves Finn feeling a little empty, the heat in his chest cooling.

“Food’s probably a good idea,” Poe says as he gets to his feet. “Let’s get you fixed up, huh?”

He stands at the bedside and extends his hand. Finn shifts, very suddenly aware there’s nothing on him but his underclothes and a thick cotton bandage wrapped around his middle. But the look on Poe’s face says not to argue and he takes his hand.

With a gentleness Finn hadn’t felt before, Poe helps him up. His legs feel rubbery, knees weak, but he’s not sure if it’s because of his injuries or because Poe’s hands are warm and sure on his chest and back. It takes more effort than it rightfully should to get steady on his feet but he makes it upright and the room doesn’t spin. Ok, maybe it doesn’t spin but stars does it feel _strange_. Poe looks him up and down, lips parted.

“You alright?” he asks softly.

Finn puts a hand to his head. “Not sure,” he mumbles. “Everything feels…weird.”

Poe frowns, a hand still firm on his elbow. “Weird how?”

Finn purses his lips, trying to swim through the fog in his brain. “It’s…hard to explain. Floaty, uneven. Like…I’m being pulled on a string to—something.”

He almost says _to you_ but that would’ve made the whole thing worse, he thinks. It is strange, though. He’s upright, but each breath sways him to Poe. There’s inches between them but he doesn’t want them there. A thread tightens beneath his breastbone, tempting him closer. Poe swallows and Finn tracks the motion of his throat. He’s adrift, a little out of control, and some part of that scares him. But all the answers seem right in his reach. Poe watches him from under half-lidded eyes and the string pulls taut, pulls him in.

Until Poe clears his throat.

“You’re right,” he says, voice a little rougher than before, “that does sound…weird. Let’s check this, make sure it’s not infected or something. You got a fever?”

He presses his hand to Finn’s forehead as if that alone would tell him, then his fingers make quick work of the bandage. As he pulls it away, Finn can see it’s not quite drenched with blood, but it’s a close thing. The soft cotton is stained a deep brownish-red, like it’s old. Finn leaves one hand to steady himself on Poe’s shoulder and the other to inspect his side. What he finds surprises him. Just beneath his ribs on the left side is a thick purplish-pink scar, about two inches wide and six inches long. He traces it with his fingers, utterly dumbfounded. It’s obviously well on its way, but it’s at a stage of healing that shouldn’t occur until months along the line. Poe also loosens the bandage along his thigh and Finn’s even more surprised to see that one’s fully healed.

“What—How—”

Poe smiles gently. “Lunch, remember?”

He holds out Finn’s trousers, a rip in the leg recently mended. When Finn’s hands won’t quite work, he ties them off, fingers lingering at the waistband then above, smoothing over the jagged scar on his side. Finn tries not to gasp but it’s a near thing. Something gives him away—Poe’s hand is on him after all—and Poe sighs.

“I’m…really glad you’re alright,” Poe murmurs. “We shouldn’t have done that, it was stupid, you could’ve died.”

The words are barely audible and Poe looks shaken, to say the least. Finn shifts, letting that string pull him closer. This isn't really any different from what he felt before but it's stronger. Something about it feels...complete. His hands come up and catch Poe’s wrists, holding them gently.

“Poe, we had to do something. It’s what we do.” He smiles, tilting his head down to catch Poe’s eyes from where they stare at the floor. “Besides, I’m here. I mean—” Poe swallows hard, Finn’s so close he can feel the heat off Poe’s skin. “—I had you.”

Poe’s staring at his mouth, trailing off. “Yeah, but that’s not—”

All it takes is a pull. He brings Poe’s hands to his chest, holds them there, tilts his head, loses himself to sensation. _Oh_ , that’s _what flying feels like_. Poe’s lips drag against his, velvet, firm, and Finn can’t quite find a breath. Everything on the ground seems to drag against him, slowing to a stop. Poe’s lips part, tongue hot and electric, teasing, and Finn dimly thinks that Poe was right. He’s falling to no end, resolved to chase this through any night. Poe frees his wrists, bringing his hands to rest at Finn’s hips. Finn can’t help himself. With a gasp and a lean in, he tenderly frames Poe’s face, distantly marveling at the line of Poe’s jaw. Stars, he never wants to come down.

But quite abruptly there’s more than a pointed clang from the interior of the house and as they jolt apart, Kes calls, “C’mon boys, lunch’s gettin’ cold!”

Poe sighs deep, pressing their foreheads together for an instant, and Finn feels that sigh in his bones. There's no part of him that wants to leave this moment. Poe’s eyes are still closed, his teeth and tongue scrape over his lower lip like he can still taste Finn there. Really, it does nothing but feed the hunger in him that suddenly has nothing to do with food.

“Can we continue this conversation later?” Poe asks in a hushed, harsh tone.

His eyes flutter just slightly as he peers at Finn from under his lashes. Looking like that, Finn doesn’t think he could deny Poe anything. “We better,” he murmurs.

Poe smiles, satisfied, but it’s a bit wan. He steps back, holds Finn’s shirt out and helps him into it before they shuffle a little awkwardly to the kitchen table.

Poe sits across from Finn at Kes’ table, a pleasant pink blush still coloring his cheeks. Finn crosses his legs. Uncrosses them. Plates clatter from the kitchen, something savory wafts on the air as Kes wafts in just behind. He places a dish in front of each of them, takes a bite of his own, seemingly unaware of the tension permeating the space. Finn's stomach reminds him _bone broth_ so he digs in with aplomb. It's a solid minute before anyone says anything.

“What do you know about shifter magic, Finn?”

Finn blinks. Well, that’s a hard shift. “Only what I know Poe can do,” he admits.

Kes takes another bite. “So, what? Transformation? Agility and strength? Danger prescience? Ok.” He waves a hand, gesturing for them to eat. Only when Finn takes a bite and Poe’s staring at his plate does he ask, “But what do you know about the _magic_?”

Finn’s a little embarrassed to admit there’s not much beyond that. As often as he and Poe had talked, it wasn’t something he asked about, so he says as much.

“Ah.”

_Oh, not good_. Nothing good ever comes after just ‘ah’. Finn glances at Poe, hoping for clarification, but he just stares at his meal. A little pebble of anxiety starts rolling somewhere around his stomach.

“Magic is a part of you, isn’t it? Even though you can see it outside yourself. You can command it. Use it as a weapon?”

Finn gulps. Ok, maybe the welcoming grizzled dad bit was a front. He’s right on the money with that but it sounds a halfway between an interrogation and sincere questions. “I don’t really know any other way. That’s—”

“No, no no no.” Kes shakes his finger and takes another bite. He chews, looking between Finn and Poe. After a second, he sighs. “Shifter magic doesn’t work that way, as I’m sure you’ve noticed. It’s intrinsic, in our blood. You see the weave and manipulate it separate from yourself. We change it within. Any changes made to our magic affect our bodies. It's how we're able to shift in the first place. Some of us can manipulate elements the same way, working it from the inside in human or animal form. Like Poe here, inherited fire magic from his mother."

Poe sits back, pushes his plates away. “Dad, d’you think maybe you should get to the point?” He sounds a little irritated but Finn doesn't miss the flicker of fear in his eyes.

“Oh, do you want to tell him then? You _should’ve_ told him then minute you got back to the castle.”

“I wasn’t sure! How could I have known for sure?”

Oh, now he’s really anxious. “Told me what?”

Kes sighs. “Ok. Let's walk through this.The transmutation spell by rights should've killed him. But it being the two of you made all the difference, I think. Poe's told me stories, you seem like quite the pair. Friends. Connected, in sync, right?" He raises an eyebrow and Finn nods. "It tethered you. Instead of harming him as it should have, your magic recognized him, protected him by linking your magic. You can't use it to harm yourself, so you when joined, you couldn't use it to hurt him."

Kes pauses, leveling his son a look that Finn's seen Poe make before. It's fond, exasperated. Maybe a little concerned. It sets him at ease, but not much. The word _linking_ and the look on Poe's face has all his attention. Finn's lets out a breath and waits. 

"That’s what started the tether, but it was incomplete. Tangled, half-finished, and it cut off his magic.Leia saw it and she knew she couldn’t fix it herself. So she sent you on your way, thinking it could be reversed with the right help. She would’ve been right," Kes continues, "but Poe gave you his mother’s ring. Before she passed, she imbued it with a healing spell. One that would only work on him. Or someone he is bound to.”

There's a long pause. Poe is watching him, and so is Kes. _No way..._

“So we're bonded." Finn doesn't mean to sound so incredulous but this is...not what he expected. "Our magic's stuck together in a joining spell.”

Finn stares. First at Kes. Then Poe. Then back again. A joining spell? On accident? _No way_. Joining, bonding, linking, it's all the same. No matter the name, it's a touchy subject, a dangerous act to say the least. It's not quite the same as magic binding. There's freedom to accept or reject the thing, no loss of will or power. But it still can be deadly. And aside from that, it’s also permanent if both joining spells are completed. How had it happened? Yes, Kes has just explained it, but Finn's still reeling.

Then another realization hits him.

Poe finished it, didn't he? To save his life. Finn feels vaguely sick to his stomach. The _last_ thing he wants is to put Poe under a spell he doesn't want, regardless of circumstance. He's not even sure it's something _he_ wants. As much as he feels for Poe, it still fills him with trepidation.

Before he can spiral into heavier thoughts, Kes holds up his hand and stems the tide. “Don't even apologize, get that look off your face. It’s what saved his life,” he says gently. "And what let him save yours."

Finn swallows. "How can you be so sure?

He doesn't need to ask, the proof is already rolling in his mind. Where else would the familiar orange fire have come from? How would he have sensed the First Order?

"You can feel it, can't you?" Kes smiles, like he knows exactly what it feels like. "A string between you, pulling you in."

_Oh_.

“So. I'm going to step out. Let you have a little chat about it. When you're ready, come out to the garden."

With nothing further, Kes picks himself up and heads out the back door, depositing his dish in the wash basin. When he leaves, he takes all the air out with him.

And here they are. Poe looking at Finn looking at Poe. The silence is deafening, he has no idea what to say. What could he possibly say? They're joined, bound together for better or worse and there's no undoing it. Even if he ran, there's be a part of Poe with him no matter where he went. For a second, Finn's chest feels so tight, like he can't breathe. There's no air to think. Poe takes a trembling breath and shakes his head.

"So who talks first? I talk first? You talk first?"

The air rushes in and Finn laughs. Hesitant at first but Poe smiles, then chuckles, then laughs right along with him. Now, he's really laughing. The tightness in his chest dissipates, there's air to spare. It feels so _good._ He feels light, his own relief mixing with something else warm and familiar. Poe, maybe, if the joining spells were to be taken seriously. Maybe this is flying, too.

"When you said 'finish this later', this isn't really what I had in mind," he snickers, losing the last of it and coming down.

"Trust me, it's not what I had in mind either, buddy," Poe says ruefully. "Definitely couldn't have my dad around for that."

Finn smiles. Better get right to the heart of it even though a little frisson of desire shivers down his spine. "You didn't have to finish the spell, Poe."

Poe frowns, sits forward. Poe finally looks him in the eye and stars doesn't that feel good, too."And let you die? In your dreams, pal."

"Poe, this is serious. You know this sticks, right? No breaking this spell?"

"I know. And I'd do it again. You'd do the same thing, you already did!" Poe's got a familiar, obstinate look on his face but his words strike a chord. 

He's right.

"Ok," he breathes. There's still something big between them, even more to take care of. So, "What do we do?"

"I don't know, exactly. We've got this...thing, but it doesn't have to be the end-all-be-all of what we are, you know?"

Finn hums, surprised at himself more than anything. That makes this whole thing so much better. Yes, it may be permanent, but Poe's still giving him a choice. That makes all the difference in the world. And considering his history, Finn can't think of anything more that might mean love.

_Oh._

_Wait_.

Love?

Well, of course. It would make sense. He does love Poe. Doesn't he. His own magic knew that before he did. _Idiot_. So, does Poe feel the same? Maybe? But maybe it's not the same? There's more than one kind of love. Stars, now he's really falling.

"Poe, d'you--" Wait, no that's not fair. "Do you know that--" Wait, that's not right either.

Poe reaches across the table and rests his hand on Finn's arm, squeezing in a way that says more than Finn could.

"Yeah...I do," he murmurs. "Is that--"

"Ok?" Finn finishes. "Yeah. Yes. Absolutely." He puts his hand over Poe's. "You're right, this doesn't have to be the end-all-be-all. But, I'd like it to be part of it, I think."

That kind of terrifies him. Who knows how they're going to fix Poe's magic. Poe stands and rounds the table, holds out his hand.

"Let's do it, then."

Finn takes his hand.

They'll figure it out. It's what they do. Whatever it is, they'll be ok.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well that was cheesy as all hell  
> I'M NOT SORRY >:)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope the imagery follows here  
> i tried lol

Finn follows Poe into Kes’ garden, hidden away at the back of the house, repeating to himself _we’ll be ok, we’ll be ok, it’s fine_ as he twists Poe’s ring on his pinkie. Which is true, they will be. He’s walking easier, less sore already, and Poe seems fairly relaxed. Ok, they fix Poe’s magic. That’s a must. After all this, he has to set that right. Ok, they’re bound by a joining spell that _definitely_ doesn’t go away. Poe said it didn’t have to be all they are, right? He _does_ want a connection, even before the accident he’d felt it building. And a joining spell isn’t a binding spell. It’s not all-consuming, it’s not drowning out everything else. Right now, it doesn’t feel like it’s too much more than he might want. The string in his chest still pulls him along but it would be easy to ignore. He’s still had a choice. So why is there still that anxiety building in his chest?

Kes is parked on a bench, shaded from the soft afternoon light. There’s tender wild vines, sprouts barely peeking from the soil in the trenched rows beyond. The whole thing has a little bit of an unreal feel, which is perfect for how Finn’s faring. He’s itching to know what comes next but Poe turns back and smiles. That bolsters his nerves a bit. Kes sits back against the bench, crossing his arms as they come near but he’s smiling, too.

Gods, too many smiles. Is he the only one nervous about this? “Fixing” magic is no easy task and _none_ of current present persons are actual sorcerers. If Leia couldn’t do it, what makes them think they can? Clearly, they know something he doesn’t and since they’re not keen on sharing, it seems he’s just going to have to be patient.

“You ready, then?”

Poe pushes out a breath and shakes his arms out. “Yeah, I think so.”

So, he _is_ nervous. Finn’s still lost but ok, they’re doing this. Kes rises, Poe takes his place back against the bench. Kes motions for Finn to stand in front of Poe. From his belt, Kes pulls a wicked-looking knife and takes Poe’s hand and ok, that’s just about _it—_

“Wait, wait wait, what’re you doin’?” Before he can think, his hand darts between Poe and Kes, pushing the knife up. “Poe, what is he doing?”

“Easy, buddy, take it easy,” Poe says gently, squeezing his forearm just a bit. “This is how we see my stuff.”

His face betrays him because Poe looks at him in a reassuring way and pushes his hand down. He glances at his father, who must give him some sort of ok, because Kes says, “I’ll be back,” and saunters into the house. Poe pulls the string at the neck of his shirt. He parts the fabric, exposing the skin of his throat and his upper chest.

“Can you see those?” Poe looks down, tracing X patterns at the top of his sternum. “Use your second-sight.”

Finn blinks a few times, bringing Poe’s chest into focus. He swallows, trying not to be distracted by the view and the orange flare still in Poe’s eyes. Glowing under the skin there, just very faintly, are three Xs stitched where Poe had pointed. He’s never seen anything like it.

“What are those?”

“Leia’s binding spell.”

A shiver works its way down Finn’s spine, and not in a good way. His fingers suddenly itch to touch the stitches, tear them out with his own magic.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Poe murmurs, letting his shirt fall closed as he leans forward. _Betrayed by the face again_. “They’re supposed to be there, remember?”

“Yeah, but you better start making sense. Why is a binding spell _in your skin_?”

The thought of it makes him feel heated and sick, bringing back too many thoughts of his own Order binding spell crawling over his skin. But that’s just it. _Over_. He’s never seen a spell _under_ someone’s skin before. Not literally. Has it felt like there’s been spells in his skin and in his bones? Sure. But he’s never seen such physical evidence of them. This…is something entirely new.

“This is how shifter magic works. It’s in our blood, literally. To get any at any of our magic, you have to draw blood, use an incantation to get it to manifest.” Finn’s eyes get wide but before he can say anything, Poe says, “It’s just a tiny bit, don’t freak out. My dad’s just got a thing for big knives.”

“You say that like a big knife hasn’t saved your ass repeatedly,” Kes calls from the kitchen window.

Finn almost jumps, he forgot Kes was behind him and if he’s being honest, this whole thing is stringing his nerves sky high.

“Ok,” he says hesitantly. “So how’s this going to work?”

“Dad makes a little cut on my finger, barely feel a thing. I’m gonna be out of it, but you guys can draw out the weave. You straighten out the joining spell, Dad unbinds my magic, easy.”

“Poe.” Finn shakes his head, takes a tiny step back. When did he start rubbing his hands on his trousers? “I don’t know if I can do this. You know firsthand what happens if I try this magic thing weapon-free.”

Poe stands and takes his hands, stepping into his space like he can’t help himself. “You can. You can do this. I trust you.”

_That’s_ why he’s still so anxious about this. He’s going to have to do delicate magic, and that scares him to death. But, the unwavering look in Poe’s eyes pins him. In his head, he’s a riot of anxiety, but he hears Kes coming out of the house so he just nods. As Kes approaches, he hands Poe a damp cloth which he fits between his teeth as he sits. His fingers slip from Finn’s hands and Kes asks again, “You ready?”

Poe holds Finn’s eyes for a moment more, then he nods. He holds out his hand, Kes pulls his knife, and Poe closes his eyes. Kes starts murmuring an incantation in a language Finn’s never heard before, drawing the tip of his knife over Poe’s thumb. A tiny bead of blood forms there, bright red in the air and glowing softly in Finn’s second-sight. Kes speaks the incantation a little louder, smearing Poe’s blood on his index finger then weaving a sigil in the air. Finn can only watch, growing more astonished by the second. The more Kes draws, the more tangible the sigil becomes in Finn’s second-sight, and more recognizable. It’s a protection sigil, and it strikes him that that might be an excellent representation of _Poe,_ as a knight, at his core _._ A thick thread trails from Poe’s thumb to the air in a visible line, bright red like his blood, streaked with the familiar orange of his fire. Finn tears his gaze from it to Poe, whose eyes are squeezed tight, his jaw clenched around the cloth. Kes continues the incantation, louder this time. Poe breathes hard through his nose and Finn drops his hand onto Poe’s shoulder. It looks like he’s in pain. _Maybe they should stop_.

“Kes—”

Kes shakes his head, drawing the sigil one last time. Finishing the incantation in a shout, a blast of heat erupts from Poe’s skin and suddenly, the sigil is solid. Finn marvels at it as it turns in the light, staring as Kes draws back and sheathes his knife. Poe’s magic crackles in the air, snapping as it meets sunbeams, dappling the garden shadows. It bathes Poe’s skin in a gentle orange the color of sunset, his body wreathed in a soft glow.

“Whoa. That’s—beautiful…”

He’s not entirely sure if he means Poe or Poe’s magic. Both, he decides. Kes smiles and looks down, ruffling Poe’s hair fondly. He’s relaxed again but unresponsive, slouched back against the bench in some kind of trance, eyes still closed.

“It is, isn’t it? Got that from his mother.”

Finn swallows at the wistful tone in Kes’ voice. “So, what do we do now?”

Kes glances at him and moves closer to his side. “You see there?” he says, pointing closer to the sigil. “Look at the center of it.”

Finn squints and leans in. Where Kes is pointing looks to be a snag, a knot in the spell weave. It glints with a familiar silver color.

“Now comes the hard part. You have to follow that thread and untangle your magic, stitch it back where it belongs.”

Finn shakes his head a little, gobsmacked. “Yeah, but _how_? Can I touch it? Will it hurt him?”

At that, Kes laughs, and Finn doesn’t really think that’s fair. It can’t really be that straightforward.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Kes chuckles, “but it really is that simple. Reach into the weave, see what happens. You won’t hurt him, I promise.”

_Oh boy_. Anxiety builds to a peak in his chest and hesitantly, Finn reaches forward. Poe’s magic spits as his hand nears but as soon as his fingers meet the spell weave, it tames, licking at his fingers with a pleasant heat. Poe gasps softly in his trance at the touch. He pulls his hand back in wonder, marveling as the flames dance on the tips of his fingers.

“Theeere you go,” Kes says gently.

“I—I’ve never felt magic like this,” he breathes. “I…didn’t know it could be this gentle.”

“Magic is a part of you, it runs as deep as your blood. You can use it for good or evil, to harm or to help. It’s not solely a weapon.”

Finn’s hand drops to his side, the soft fire dissipating. “I’ve never used it to help, I can barely control it without my axes.”

Kes snorts. “Well, you certainly won’t with that attitude. Don’t let a mishap keep you from growth. Shifter magic isn’t like sorcery. It adapts, changes just like we do. It’s what saved his life, bonding to your magic and accepting it instead of being destroyed by it. Sorcerers are rigid. Only the best of them think like shifters, feeling their way through the magic.”

There’s that phrase again: _Feel through the magic_. Seems like sounds advice. Apparently that little success lighting a fire was a bigger step than he’d thought. Of course Leia would’ve suggested it. She’s one of the best. Which leads him back to his earlier hesitation.

“I’m not either of those things. I’m not really a sorcerer and I’ve definitely seen better,” he murmurs, despite being entranced as he is by Poe’s magic. “I’m not sure I can do this.”

Kes lays a hand on his shoulder, like he would for Poe. It’s heavy and comforting as doubt creeps back in. “You don’t have to be. You’ve already known his magic. It’s woven so deep in yours, you’ll never get it out. I was the same with way with Shara. Trust me, I know,” says Kes. “It needs to run both ways. Fear gets us all, but in a joining spell, it has very real repercussions. He believes in you, so you have to do the same. If you can feel your magic, you can feel his. Just need to follow the thread, follow your feelings.”

Finn pushes out a hard breath. The protection sigil burns in front of him. This is it, no getting out of it. Finn doesn’t think he’s ever been this afraid in his life. What if something goes wrong? What if Poe is hurt? How can he trust his feelings when they’ve been used against him in the past? All these questions spiral in his gut but the truth is perfectly plain: Either he does this and Poe’s magic is restored, or he doesn’t and Poe never flies again. Faced with that, there’s no choice. He recalls Poe’s words, his faith and unwavering eyes. _I can do this, it’ll be ok_.

_I can do this._

He reaches forward to the center of Poe’s magic and takes hold of the silver thread.

Immediately, there’s a sharp tug in his chest and his magic flares. It feels bright, unwieldy, surging to his fingertips where Poe’s fire flickers. With a sharp breath, he clamps down on the feeling and eases it to a trickle instead of a torrent. Poe gasps with him but doesn’t wake. Finn takes that as good news. He reaches into the weave with his other hand, Poe’s ring heating on his finger. He’s never felt his own magic so tangibly before. It was always separate, always a tool, but this feels like so much more. Pinching the end of the silver thread in one hand and holding the tangled ball in the other, he gently pulls the string from Poe’s center.

He’s not sure if this is right, but Kes is watching intently and it doesn’t feel _wrong_. His gut says he should stitch, like he’s seen fabric weavers do. So he does. As gently as he can, he threads the silver line in neat stitches at the edges of Poe’s magic. There’s so much, his arms are starting to burn with the effort, but he can’t stop. In and out, in and out, until there is a clean silvery edge to Poe’s bloody orange plait. _That_ feels right. He leaves only a single stitch at the center. The rest forms an edge of protection, shining like the edge of his axe. At last, the thread of his magic loosens in his chest and there is no more left. With a sigh deep and satisfied, he steps back.

It’s done. And he feels…complete.

“You did it.” Kes claps him on the shoulder again, shaking him a little and smiling wide. “Only one thing left.”

He starts another incantation, which almost sounds like the first in reverse, reaching out with his own magic. It skates in shades of gold, unfettered at the tips of his fingers. With deft hands, he pulls the binding thread from the base of Poe’s throat and suddenly all Poe’s magic sweeps back into his body in a rush.

There’s an instant of stillness, Poe doesn’t wake.

“Poe?”

Finn’s heart clenches. He crouches. He gingerly shakes Poe’s shoulder and Poe comes awake with a deep gasp. He scrabbles at Finn’s hand, pulling Finn in between his knees, looking frantically between Finn and his father. For a second, he pants, like he’s desperate to get his breath, then his hand comes up and covers Finn’s and Finn knows Poe feels the change before he even says it.

Poe echoes unwittingly, “You did it,” a radiant smile breaking out over his face. He shoots to his feet and runs. Finn follows, dashing after him as Poe sprints over soft grass to the open road at the front of the house. Poe gets a few strides ahead, jumps, and in a wonderful flash of orange fire, he transforms.

Finn shouts the instant Poe does, pumping his fist in the air as Poe soars higher and higher into the air. He can hear him, distantly whooping and spinning through the clouds, fire streaking after him in the sky. A stiff breeze forms in the wake of joyous flight and he dives. Poe spirals until he’s nothing but a blur. Just when Finn thinks he’s going to hit the ground, he corrects, flying up the road toward him. At the last second, Poe transforms again, crashing into him in a rush of heat and sparks and limbs. Finn can’t help laughing, wraps his arms around Poe’s chest, spins to diffuse his momentum as Poe clings to him. The smell of ozone and fire burn in his nose, suddenly Poe’s kissing him, this time for real. The joining spell thrums deep in his chest, and Finn tastes Poe’s exuberance tangibly on his tongue.

“You did it!” he cheers again, pulling back, eyes bright and skin glowing like his magic is trying to escape.

Finn’s face feels like it might break but he squeezes Poe tight one more time. “Thanks for believing in me.”

Poe’s eyes soften and he reaches up, barely brushing his fingers over Finn’s jaw. Finn turns just enough to press his lips to Poe’s fingertips as Poe says, “I knew you could do it.”

Finn glances back to the house, spies Kes standing in the yard, arms crossed and shaking his head fondly.

_Wow_. It’s done. So much of the tension in him has left, pulled out of his shoulders the second Poe took flight. Everything is the way it should be. He’s not sure what to do next, so he says, “Guess we should help your dad clean up, huh?”

“Yeah, I—” Poe cuts off abruptly, brow pinching at something over Finn’s shoulder.

He turns just as Poe says, “What is _that_?” and Finn’s stomach does its own steep dive when he spies what’s coming up the road.

A long-legged maned wolf, wispy at the edges and glowing pale blue, lopes up the road toward them. He hears Kes shout, Poe tenses next to him, but Finn knows exactly what that is. Before Poe can stop him, Finn darts up the road to meet the creature.

_This can’t be good news_.

It’s Rey’s messenger. Fueled by her magic, able to travel long distances and through physical obstacles, and something she conjures when she can’t escape herself. She’s only ever sent one before, on their undercover mission, and _that_ maned wolf came spouting news that she’d been captured. Not good, not good. _Stars, we can’t catch a break, can we?_ he thinks as the messenger approaches. Poe follows close behind him, and Finn can feel his apprehension, but the blue wolf prances to a halt and opens its mouth.

It flickers, Rey’s words coming through garbled all to hell. “Finn! —ack squadron, we nee—help! —Order—Crait sal—ell Leia we need—”

Finn’s heart instantly races. He’d almost forgotten the Order, but apparently the Order hasn’t forgotten them. Rey’s conjured envoy repeats the message again with no more clarity before it dissolves in a burst of blue light. She’s in trouble, her magic’s being used up somewhere else, that much is certain. Their mission to the southern border must have gone off the rails.

“Poe, c’mon we gotta go, we gotta help them!”

Finn scrambles to his feet, trying to dash back into Kes’ house for their weapons and armor even though he has no idea where they are. He doesn’t get far, Poe’s hand firm on his arm.

“Finn, you got stabbed less than three days ago, you can’t—”

“Poe…” he says, his tone hot and warning and he levels Poe with what he hopes is a look that gets the point across.

“Ok, ok!” Poe gives in and holds his hands up defeat. “We go together. And I’m gonna worry the entire time.”

“I’ll do the same, what else is new?”

That makes Poe grin and together they sprint for the door.

“What’s going on?” Kes calls, following them into the house.

“Our friend’s in trouble, First Order probably has them trapped,” Poe shouts over his shoulder, gathering their weapons from a room in the back.

“Think that means the Crait salt mines?” Finn asks as he throws on his boots, scars pulling tight.

Poe drops their arms in a clanging heap on the table. “Probably.”

“Boys, you can’t be serious,” says Kes. “The only way to the salt mines from here is west, over the mountain’s edge.”

“So we go now,” Poe retorts, shoving his cuirass over his head. But he pauses, wheels in his head turning. “Wait…she said tell Leia something. She probably thinks we’re at the castle. They might need more than just us.”

Finn grimaces. “Yeah, but it would take us the better part of a day to get to the castle, even if we rode hard. Another day to get back. If she’s sent her messenger, they don’t have time for that.”

“I’ll go.”

Poe and Finn turn to Kes, who’s regarding them with an exasperated look. He puts his hands on his belt as if to say _What did you expect_? but Finn can’t help his surprise.

“Finn, you take BeeBee. Poe can fly ahead and guide you to the mine,” he says. “There might be a way to lead them out the back. I’ll take your horse and ride to the castle. Maybe between all of us, we can get them the help they need.”

Finn meets Poe’s eyes resolutely.

“Let’s do it.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OH MY GOD I DID IT WHOOOOOOO
> 
> for optimum feels, play sonera by thomas bergersen, def the inspo song for this

Finn hoists himself onto BeeBee’s back and the horse seems to sense the urgency. He’s cantering on the spot, almost raring to go. Finn’s scars pulls but they don’t hurt as much, not like he worried they would. The one on his leg is barely noticeable and the one on his stomach only mildly twinges. He adjusts his axes on his back, tucks Poe’s ring under his shirt on its new black cord. Poe shoulders his shield, straps his sword tight. Kes shifts on the spot and it’s probably the first sign of uneasiness Finn’s seen on the man. He squeezes Poe’s arm before yanking him into a hard hug.

“You boys be safe,” he says, gruff in a way that belies his actions.

“We will,” Poe promises, muffled in his father’s shoulder.

Kes pats Poe’s cheek and with that, he lets him go. He hops into Dio’s saddle, nods at Finn in a way that’s so much like Poe it makes Finn’s stomach clench.

“Thank you,” he’s compelled to say, “for everything.”

It sounds like a goodbye to his ear, maybe more permanent than he intended. Kes scowls good-naturedly.

“Don’t think you’re getting rid of me. I’ll see you when this is all over.”

It’s a promise and it fans that spark of hope in Finn’s heart to a flame. He grins, taps BeeBee’s sides, and they’re off. With a leap, Poe takes his falcon form and flaps ahead until Finn nearly loses sight of him. He pushes BeeBee to a gallop, riding as hard as he dares toward the mountains in the West.

Time feels like it’s slipping away. It takes all Finn’s focus to not _lose_ focus. He manages to keep his mind from wandering as he rides, keeping one eye on Poe’s silhouette and the other on the road. Rey’s strong, he reminds himself, and Black Squadron is nothing to sneeze at. They’re all experienced fighters, powerful in their own right. But there’s a little niggling of dread, similar to what he felt on the road with Poe. If the First Order has managed to corner them, if Rey’s sending her messenger for help, it must be dire. With a click, he urges BeeBee on and the mountains draw near.

Finally, after an hour’s hard ride, they reach the ridge. When they near the base, Poe circles back.

“Start up the trail,” he calls from the air, “I’m gonna check it out.”

Finn nods, slowing BeeBee to a trot. He’s worried, yes, but he doesn’t doubt Poe’s ability. “I’m right behind you!”

Poe soars away, and it takes him so long to get back that if Finn couldn’t feel him through the spell, he’d be worried. He’s nearly to the top of the trail when he spies Poe’s silhouette against the sky. When he circles down, Finn hears him shout, “Probably more than a hundred of them! They’re trapped at the mouth of the mine, behind a wall. Follow me, I’ll lead you down!”

He waves in response and urges BeeBee higher. They crest the ridge, only for Finn’s stomach to fall: First Order berserkers, painted deathly white. _No, bad bad bad_. Berserkers are First Order soldiers of the worst kind. Volunteers. Creatures and humans alike that joined the First Order by choice, who fight with a frenzy all their own, not by binding spells and dark magic. But they’re funneled to a bottleneck, leaving Black Squadron no exit. Rey’s power as an earth sorcerer has never been more evident and Finn’s never been more thankful for their training. A high, thick wall of salt is built up around the entrance to the mine. Rey’s holding it for all she’s worth, tentacles of wet earth whipping back and forth, tossing First Order troops from where they’re scrambling up the wall. Black Squadron seems to be holding their own. He can see them positioned along the wall’s lip, knocking back berserkers, trying to gain a foothold in the onslaught. But they’re struggling. They won’t last much longer in that spot. He reins BeeBee in, falling behind Poe as the battle fast approaches.

Finn thinks fast. “Go low!” he shouts. “Clear ‘em out!”

If Poe were human, he’d be grinning. Finn can feel it.

“I was just thinkin’ that!”

Poe spirals up. His primaries spark, orange fire flickering on the mantle of his shoulders in the ascent. He’s so far into the sky that Finn nearly loses him, desperately trying to keep track of him above the fray. He sees him, he’s falling. He’s plummeting back down to the ground, wings tucked and fire streaking behind him. Finn sucks in a breath. Just a dozen feet from the salt wall, Poe’s wings open and he soars. There’s a flash, a tornado of wind larger than Poe should be able to make brutally buffeting the Order troops flat. Behind the gust is a wave of fire, sparking and crackling with magic, tearing through dozens of First Order soldier ahead of him.

The berserkers scatter. Here’s their shot.

He shouts, exhilarated, ecstatic as Poe circles his shoulders in a blinding pass before taking to the sky. Arrows dot the air after him, but none are fast enough to catch him.As fast as BeeBee can manage, Finn charges down the side of the mountain to the mouth of the mine. There’s no way in, but Rey’s seen him and she opens the wall to where Black Squadron waits.

They’re still searching the sky for Poe; Rey is the first to spot him as he darts inside. “Finn!”

“Rey, push the wall higher, you’ve got a chance!”

She grits her teeth, her conjured tentacles of earth pulling Snap, Karé, Jess, and Suralinda from the wall. They land easily, and with a fierce shout, Rey pushes the wall of salt up dozens of feet, solidifying it with a spell. It’s bought them some time, but not much. Finn can hear the rattle of metal and the berserkers guttural cries over the wall. It won’t hold them for long, they’ll find a way over or through it. But it’s long enough.

Finn jumps from BeeBee’s back, letting him canter to a halt as he vaults to Rey. She’s sweating, breathing hard from the exertion, but he crushes her into a hug.

“You got my messenger,” Rey pants. “Thank the stars.”

“We came as fast as we could,” he says, dropping his arms as Black Squadron draws in.

“Where’s everyone else?” Suralinda asks as she shoulders her bow. “Did you bring anyone with you?”

“We weren’t at the castle,” he explains, “we were with Poe’s dad. Kes is riding there for help as we speak.”

“Great.” Suralinda rolls her eyes. “So, it’s just the seven of us?”

“Seven against a hundred? I like those odds,” Poe calls, striding to the group.

His appearance seems to bolster their strength and it makes Finn’s heart swell with pride. There’s a reason he’s their leader; their admiration is clear. Snap shoulders his war hammer and claps a hand on Poe’s shoulder.

“Glad you’re back in one piece,” Snap says.

Poe smirks but Jess pipes up, “You may like seven against a hundred, but I don’t, Dameron. You got a plan?”

All eyes turn to him and Poe straightens his spine. “Is there any way out of here? How did you guys get stuck down here in the first place?”

Snap rubs the back of his head, looking chagrinned, and says, “We made it to the Jakku desert, but there were more soldiers than we expected. _Thousands_ of them, Poe, you wouldn’t believe your eyes. So we…took Leia’s advice, raised a little hell.”

Finn raises an eyebrow at Rey but she smiles faintly and shrugs.

“We uh…we were made, so we hightailed it back to the castle. But these Order soldiers intercepted us, drove us west. I’m guessing they were on their way to join the others and we just ran out of luck, lost our provisions, our horses. I thought there was a way through the mountain—”

“Key word _thought_ ,” Karé supplies.

“And there _was,_ ” Snap glares. “But the mine’s collapsed. This was the only way in. By the time we realized it, the First Order caught up. Rey raised the wall as soon as we caught wind of them, and that worked for a while, while we looked for a way out. She sent the messenger this morning, when the Order got smart and got ladders.”

Poe purses his lips and frowns. “Could you get through it, Rey? If we bought you some time?”

“No,” she sighs, like she’s disappointed in herself. “There’s too much rubble and nowhere for it to go. I don’t have the power to transmute all of it, and I can’t spell it away, I don’t have anywhere for it to go.”

“And Jess?”

She shakes her head at him. “I may be the boom expert, but I have about a dozen bombs left. Not enough to get through. Even if I did, it might make the collapse worse. It could crush us.”

Poe puts his hands on his hips, the furrow in his brow growing deeper. “So you really were stuck, huh?”

“That’s why I sent the messenger,” Rey says, voice dry. “I was hoping for more than two knights in shining armor.”

Finn snorts and the rest of the squadron smirks. The circumstances sound dire. In fact, this is the worst scenario he’s heard of. His mind starts spinning as he thinks about it. Even if Kes manages to return with help, there’s no way to reach them inside the mine. They can’t go back, and the only way out is through a hundred First Order berserkers, give or take the ones already down. But, a semblance of a plan is forming in his mind.

“So…there’s no way back,” he says slowly. “Only forward. So, we go through them.”

Six sets of eyes blink at him, Jess and Suralinda exchange a look that plainly says they think he’s gone round the bend.

“Here me out, I think we could make this work.”

“What’re you thinkin’, buddy?” Poe asks.

“The First Order is regrouping as we speak, but we have the element of surprise and some powerful magic. So, here’s what I’m thinking. We knock down the wall. It’s at least fifty feet high, a good number of them will be stuck in the bottleneck. Rey, you conjure the biggest golem you can, Poe takes point and leads with his wind sweep. I’ll go behind him and distract until you guys can get past the rubble. Once there’s an opening, we hold the line. Poe keeps to the sky, using what magic he can, Rey center, leading with the golem, Suralinda, you’re with her to watch her back up high. The rest of us along the side. They can’t get behind us from where they are and if we keep them funneled in, we’ll have a shot.”

“Why don’t we just stay put?” Suralinda asks. “Wait for backup.”

Finn shakes his head, a terrible realization sinking in. “They won’t make it in time. We don’t have the supplies to wait them out. If I know the First Order, they’ll be through that wall by nightfall. And we’ll be toast.”

“This could work,” Rey says slowly. “It’s risky, but it might work.”

Finn looks to Poe, feel his own anxiety and Poe’s through their link. Rey’s right, it is risky. But Finn knows he’s right, too. The First Order has the upper hand here, so, “What d’you think?”

He half-expects Poe to side with Suralinda, but he meets Finn’s eyes unflinching and says, “Sounds like a plan. You guys up for a little rumble?”

Black Squadron look to each other, then to Poe.

“We’re with you, Black Leader,” Karé smirks.

One by one, they turn to the wall. Rey takes a deep breath as Poe takes flight. Finn centers his axes. _They can do this_. Poe’s magic rises in his, sizzles in his veins. His new scars pull tight but hold. Despite his nerves, he’s primed for the fight. He couldn’t ask for any better to battle by his side.

He shouts from his chest, “Ready!”

Black Squadron bellows back, inarticulate, energy keyed as high as it’ll go. Rey raises her hands and the wall begins to crack.

_They can do this._

He jumps back onto BeeBee’s back and the wall topples with a thunderous crash. First Order soldiers shriek as it falls, Poe speeding it along with a gust from his wings. It’s down, the dust settling, and Poe soars out, another wave of fire ripping through those fleeing the wall. Finn’s blood sparks, he urges BeeBee forward, tramples Order soldiers underfoot. The spell weave appears in his second-sight, crackling, ready. He slices down, catching the neck of the Order solider staggering up to him, slashing the face of another as BeeBee rears back. He steadies himself. With a shout, he slices through the weave with both axes, watching the devastation rolls out from him. Fire and lightning expand from his axe blades, burning through ten, twenty First Order berserkers, injuring another ten. He hears Black Squadron’s war cries from behind, dropping into the fray and Finn drops the berserkers left sizzling in the dirt.

More charge for him. There’s two from behind, BeeBee wheeling to crush them as they ride back to the others. Three from the sides, three from the front. He feels through his magic, bends the weave into a cutting spell that radiates out and they fall. Their focus has shifted; the way is clear.

He rounds, dismounts. Bares his teeth, wordlessly shouting to meet them.

He feints, dives and rolls, twisting the weave on his way up so it deafens those near him. One down, two. Three. He pulls his axe out of a berserker’s neck to see Rey vault ahead of him in the fray. She’s atop the largest golem he’s ever seen and he almost stops dead. It towers nearly thirty feet in the air, her hands and feet buried in its salted exterior, controlling the thing with every ounce of effort she’s got. Suralinda is perched on one of its shoulders, blue skin blurring against the sky. She picks off berserkers below with her bow, covering Rey’s back as she cuts a swath of destruction through the Order. Above the noise and the dust, he hears her screaming. It’s not in pain, it’s a war cry and the First Order are scrambling to get out of her way.

He grins. If he were the Order, he’d run for it, too.

It’s working. In just minutes, the Order forces are cut in half.

_They can do this_.

Poe dives again, this time from behind. Finn feels the gust and the heat but it doesn’t burn. It energizes him, making his blood catch fire and the berserkers fall. The fire bubbles out of him, he cheers, shouting after Poe as he zips past. Finally, Snap and Karé make it to his left and right, together forming a loose line.

“Looks like you were right!” Karé shouts to him, cutting two berserkers down at the knees.

“It’s been known to happen!”

“You do know there’s still like fifty of ‘em left, right?” Snap calls, aptly snapping bones with his hammer.

“Sounds like good odds to me!” he shouts, twisting another spell out with his axes. “Cover!” This one sizzles out, sweeping the feet out from under the enemy. It’s enough to clear the way to Rey. “Hold the line!”

In his periphery, he sees Jess on BeeBee’s back, charging toward them. She tosses a bomb high, then a second, flattening at least ten more berserkers for them to pick off. He takes three, grounded near him. Snap and Karé take the rest. Finn can’t help but grin at her through the mess, even though his energy’s starting to flag. Healed or not, his injuries are starting to take their toll. Together, they push to the golem’s feet, darting forward and back to keep the bottleneck, swords and axes and hammers weaving in tandem. Another slice, a slide, a new spell bursts out of his plait, knocking the berserkers back another few feet and melting their armor as they shriek.

He pants. Blinks. Whoa. They’re actually holding.

But something tingles in his mind. _Not good_. He looks up. Poe dives one more time. Fire rolls out of his wings but from the ground, an archer missed by the flames. The soldier shoots and Finn shouts. He throws out his hand, the arrow flies off course, but not far enough. Poe falls out of the sky, Finn vaults forward before he registers the motion. It’s the joining spell, he’s sure. It propels him past the shouts of Black Squadron, lets him tear through berserkers, axes literally ablaze, like he’s a spell himself.

He comes to Poe’s side fifty feet into the fray. Poe’s sprawled on his side, human, bleeding where the arrow tore through his shirt and opened his bicep. Even so, he’s scrabbling for his sword with his good arm as the berserkers close in. Finn blocks an incoming thrust, then another, uses the fire now in his axe heads to set several alight. Poe’s got his sword in his right hand, shield barely held in his left, and they’re fighting back to back.

“Don’t know how we’re gonna get outta this one, buddy,” he hears Poe grind out.

A sword comes in from the right, glances off Poe’s shield as he reaches to cover him. Finn follows his motion, drops two more of the Order, turning just in time to hook his axe around the neck of a berserker that came too close to Poe.

“Hey, quit that shit,” he pants. “I don’t know if you’re watching, but we’re winning here.”

“Not from where I’m standin’, pal.”

Ok, it’s not quite true. But, he throws the berserker into the mess and finally there’s enough space. He brings the weave into focus and splits it, sending fire and lightning out again even as it makes his knees tremble with effort. Poe steadies him, a hand on his shoulder, and they pull to a stop.

There’s an instant of stillness, the eye in the storm of battle. Finn turns to Poe. He looks so tired, Finn can feel it as much as his own exhaustion. Poe’s bloody, lip split, determined, and Finn’s resolve hardens to stone. No matter what, they go together. This might be it, but what can he say? Their eyes lock. Poe grits his teeth in a grin and Finn grins back. There’s that spark of hope. No giving up. He knows what to say, doesn’t have to say it, Poe’s already thinking it—

Together, they turn, weapons raised. Another wave of berserkers is rising to meet them, spilling over their dead comrades into the fray.

_They can do this_.

The first few meet the head of his axes and it’s on. They’re in the thick of it now. Rey’s golem surges forward, Snap, Karé, and Jess intercept berserkers from the side. He can see them just out of reach, fighting their way in. Finn grits his teeth, eyes darting left and right, trying desperately to keep up with the enemies surrounding them. One sword gets past, nicks his arm. Another comes from the side, thankfully glancing off his cuirass. There’s maybe thirty left, and they’ve faced worse odds. But there’s something. Finn takes a breath.

He feels the joining spell humming in his chest, in his blood. There’s something there, just beneath the surface, all he has to do is call on it.

“Poe?”

“I feel it.”

“You ready?”

Poe grunts, blocking another berserker, then two. “Do it.”

Finn reaches deep, pulling on the bond between them. He can feel Poe’s magic siphon to him, building in the space around him. The air begins to whirl, gently at first, growing in strength as it does from Poe’s wings. The berserkers closest to them waver, unsettled by this new magic. _Focus, focus, feel through it_. His spell weave appears in front of him, fiery around the edges like he’s never seen it before. Poe pants behind him, his ring burns on Finn’s chest, the winds whirl faster, buffeting the soldiers around them until they can barely hold their ground. The air whips, streaked with fire now, he focuses on the weave and wills the right shape to appear.

Wind shrieks in his ears, he pauses. _There_. He sees it, the spell shape appears. He lunges for it, a twist, overhand strike, a cut—

“Cover!!”

Black Squadron somehow hear him and drop, Rey throws up a shield spell. Then, their magic merges; the storm tears out. The winds cut through everything in its path, the berserkers flattened and torn to shreds. There’s a horrible scream, from the wind, from the Order soldiers, but he knows. His friends are safe; he can feel Rey’s charm.

A few seconds of chaos, and it’s over.

They’ve won.

Finn falls to his knees, shaking to his core. Poe slumps beside him, panting, but his grip is firm on Finn’s shoulder.

“Didn’t…didn’t know you could do that.”

Finn huffs a laugh, leans into Poe’s side. “I didn’t either.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Rey’s golem dissolving. She’s swaying on her feet, but Jess and Suralinda are there to hold her up. Snap and Karé whoop and shout, running flat out toward them. Fuck, he’s exhausted. Every muscle aches, he’s pretty sure the scar on his side has ripped and there’s new wounds all over his body he hadn’t noticed.

But, they did it.

Finn sneaks his hand around Poe’s and squeezes, hoping that conveys the relief flooding him. When Poe squeezes back, he knows it has. For an instant, their joining spell is all he can feel and it warms him the way only Poe can _._ He leans in, kisses Poe’s split lip as gently as he can, just to reassure himself Poe’s ok. Poe cups the back of his neck, pressing their foreheads together, and murmurs, “Guess we made it through the night.”

Finn snorts, “You’re ridiculous,” and kisses Poe’s cheek.

“You started it,” Poe teases, but before Finn can say anything else, the others are crashing into them, shouting and screaming, joyous, astonished. There’s so many questions raining down on him, Finn can’t think straight. But, there’ll be time. They won this fight, they did it together, like he said they would, even if his plan did sound ridiculous. There will be more battles to come, more to work through in their bond. The fight is far from over. But they’re here. They’re alive. And that’s enough for now.

**Epilogue—**

_Six Months Later_

“We’ve received word that the First Order is regrouping at the Exegol Wastes,” Leia says to her war table. “Thanks to Rey and Commander Dameron.”

Half the table’s eyes slide to Poe, the other half to Finn, and he can’t help but grin.

“No,” Leia lets out a long-suffering sigh. “The other one.”

That doesn’t help clear anything up, the eyes just switch sides, and Finn can hear Leia muttering under her breath, “Swear to all the gods, they do this to me on purpose.”

“That said,” she continues, “we’ll need a team to lead the assault.”

“Didn’t the intel say there were war balloons now?” someone down the table asks. Beaumont, he thinks. “How exactly are we going to contend with that?”

Finn turns at the same time Poe does. “I have an idea for that.”

“We go in hot,” Poe says, pointing to the map on the table, “come from the north and the west. If we can flank ‘em before they take cover in that mess, we can stop their war balloons from taking off.”

Leia arches an eyebrow. “Are you volunteering to lead?”

Poe smirks at her, “As if you need to ask?” and she rolls her eyes.

“How long do you need?” Rose asks. “It’ll take some time to mobilize what we’ve got left.”

“She has a point, Commander. We won’t have the guardian army summoned for several days.”

“That should be enough time for us to draw them out,” Finn says. “We just need to get them out in the open. Rey can send back a safe trail through the wastes with her messenger. Then, you follow in. Chewie, Kes, and Lando lead the way, they’re the best navigators you have. If you can get the army to us, we can put a stop to this once and for all.”

Kes and Lando are nodding, Chewie roars from down the table, and Finn’s pretty sure that means they’re in. He glances at Poe and sees a familiar look in his eye that matches the hot, primed feeling plucking the string of their bond.

“Ok,” Leia says, spreading her hands in a decisive move. “You’ve got it. Let’s get to it.”

Poe grins at him, and together they leap from the table. Finn watches Poe’s back all the way down to the armory, where Black Squadron has already been waiting.

“So, what’s the news?” Rey asks.

“We’re on it.”

The gathered knights grin viciously at each other. Since their last battle at D’Qar, they’ve been spoiling for a fight, eager to strike back. They shoulder their weapons, armor up, gather supplies to start loading their horses. In no time at all, Finn’s on BeeBee’s back. The others ride out to the gates ahead of him and Finn feels familiar battle nerves jangling in his gut. Poe pulls up short of the others, lays his hand on Finn’s thigh and looks up at him.

“You alright?”

“Yeah,” Finn smiles. “Just the usual.” He can feel Poe’s concern mix through their bond and it eases him some. “Just gonna worry the whole time.”

Poe smirks up at him, fits a boot in BeeBee’s stirrup and pulls himself up to Finn’s level.

“So, what else is new?” he asks. “We’ll be alright. We always are.”

He plants a firm kiss on Finn’s lips, grins roguishly as he jumps from the saddle, transforming mid-leap like the show-off he is. Finn shakes his head, heart swelling as Poe takes to the sky. This may be the biggest fight of their life and all he can think about is how much he loves that idiot. _Sap_ , his brain supplies in a familiar refrain. Yeah, that’s true. But, Poe’s worse. Finn repeats to himself Poe’s favorite phrase, the one he gently whispers into his skin, a mantra for every day they fight: _As long as we’re together, we’ll make it through the night._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, self-edited so any mistakes are mine
> 
> Many thanks to gmariam (gmariam19) for all the input, the epilogue idea, and listening to my bellyaching. I appreciate you so much!!!  
> Many thanks to those of you reading, especially to those commenting. Hope you had as much fun as I did


End file.
